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^lo trier- Utission. — J^rontispicce 



There isn't ti single bright Mower for my bouquet.’’ p, ;W. 


THE 


Flo WE R-MissioN, 

AND 

WHAT GREW OUT OF IT. 


BY 

KATE NEELY JHLli 

AUTHOR OF “ELLIE RANDOLPH,” ETC., ETC, 



Consider (he lilies of the field .''’ — ^Matt. vi. 28. 

Children, obey your parents in the Lord : for this is right. 
And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to 
wrath .” — Eph. vi. 1, 4, 


. v\ h 

PHILADELPHIA: ' > 

AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 

No. 1122 Chestnut Street. 




NEW YORK : 8 & 10 BIBLE HOUSE, ASTOR PLACE. 
CHICAGO: 73 RANDOLPH STREET. 


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Entered,' according to Actjof Congress, in the year 1879, by the 
AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 





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) 


CONTENTS. 


OHAPTEE I.' 

PAGE 


At Home 9 

• CHAPTER II. 

At Church 23 

CHAPTER III. 

Jessie’s Posy 37 

CHAPTER IV. 

At the HospitaC 47 

CHAPTER V. 

Twilight Talk 61 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Little Housekeeper 71 


vii 


vill 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

Balm in Gilead . 

VII. 

PAGE 
. 100 

CHAPTER 

VIII. 


Trial-Time .... 


. 112 

CHAPTER 

IX. 


A Hew Friend . . . ' 


. 125 

• CHAPTER X. 

• 

A Little Nightingale 

• 

. . 154 

• ’ CHAPTER 

XI. 

• 

Songs in the Night . .. . 

• 

. 166 

CHAPTER 

XII. 


A Wish Granted 

*■ 

. 186 

CHAPTER 

XIII. 


A Joyful Surprise 


. .199 


• CHAPTER XIV.* 


Home Again! 


211 


THE FLOWEE-MISSION, 

AND 

Wliat Grew Out of It. 


CHAPTER 1. 

AT HOME. 

H ad N’T I better stay at borne this morn- 
ing, mother ? I don’t like to leave yon 
with no one but Roddy, when yon ’re so sick. 
Yon might want something, or he might be 
tronblesome. I gness yon’d better let me 
stay with yon.” 

Little Jessie Lang was seated on the edge 
of her mother’s bed, holding one. of the dry, 
feverish hands in both her own small, brown 
palms. Her eyes were fixed very lovingly 
on the face that was so dear to her, and she 
spoke in a tender, cheerful way that wonld 
never have snggested the idea of a sacrifice. 
Bnt Mrs. Lang knew it was a sacrifice that 

9 


10 


THE FLOWEK-MISSION. 


the child was offering; for Jessie was de- 
voted to her Sunday-school, and was never 
of her own accord either absent or late. Her 
Saturday evening was always spent in going 
over the lesson, and studying some pretty 
little hymn to recite to her teacher ; and she 
had, nicely ranged upon her shelf of the 
hanging bookcase, several brightly - bound 
volumes which had been given to her as 
rewards for good conduct and perfect les- 
sons. Her teacher, too, gentle Miss Leigh- 
ton, came next to her mother and Roddy in 
Jessie’s heart ; and altogether, Mrs. Lang 
knew that her little girl really loved her 
very much, when she begged to be allowed 
to stay away from her beloved Sunday- 
school, just because she had a headache, and 
had thought best to lie still and rest it out 
that morning. 

She did feel very unwell, indeed. She 
had taken a heavy cold, going out in the 
wind and the snow, the day before, to do her 
Saturday’s marketing. She passed a rest- 
less, feverish night, and awoke with a dull 
pain in her head and in all her limbs. It 
would have been very pleasant to her to 
have had her little daughter by her side all 


AT HOME. 


11 


the morning, bathing her forehead with bay- 
water, and comforting her with her loving 
sympathy ; but she would not be any more 
self-considering than Jessie. 

So she said, “No, dear; there’s no need 
at all for you to stay. I’m not really ill, 
you know ; only a little feverish and aching. 
That wind was so keen, yesterday ! But I 
shall be better by and by ; well enough to 
get up this afternoon, maybe. So get ready 
and go to Sunday-school. I don’t like to 
have you miss it ; and you need n’t worry 
about Eoddy. Mrs. Eeed came down while 
you were in the kitchen clearing up the 
breakfast things, and offered to take him 
up-stairs and let him play with her little 
ones. You know she and her husband have 
to take turns in going to church on account 
of the children, and it is her morning at 
home. So you can go with an easy mind, 
for I shall not need a thing except my glass 
of barley-water, and I shall maybe get a nice 
nap. And you must n’t come back till after 
church, because you might wake me, you 
know.” 

She made an effort to smile, though a 
twinge of pain shot through her temples 


12 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


as she did so ; and Jessie stooped down and 
kissed her. 

“Ah, I know you, mother,” she said, shak- 
ing her brown, curly head. “ You* only say 
that because you think I want to go. But, 
indeed, I’d a great deal rather stay with 
you, if I could help you in any way.” 

“The idea of you being of any help!” 
said her mother. “ Nonsense 1 Go right 
away, now, and put on your things. Don’t 
you see I ’m in a hurry to get rid of you?” 

Jessie laughed, and squeezed the hand she 
held in hers. . She knew well enough who 
was her mother’s “ little right-hand man 
and it made her glad to see her able to speak 
playfully. 

“ W ell, I guess I ’ll go then,” she said, 
getting up from her seat on the side of the 
bed. “I’m so thankful you ’re not so sick 
as I was afraid you were. It isn’t time tO 
start just yet. I ’ll go and mix you some 
gruel first, and put it on the stove to sim- 
mer. I ’ll make enough to give Eoddy some, 
too. You like gruel, don’t you, boysy? 
And then there won’t be any need to cook 
anything else just for us. There ’s plenty of 
bread and butter, and the ginger-snaps you 


AT HOME. 


13 


broTiglit us yesterday, and a big bowl of cus- 
tard Mrs. Grant sent down, besides some ap- 
ples for this evening. Wo ’ll do splendidly ; 
and you won’t have any smell of cooking to 
make your poor bead worse. Now come, 
Roddy, and get your face washed once more, 
before sister takes you up to see Benny and 
Daisy.” 

Jessie’s mother was a widow; her husband 
had died when Roddy was a very little baby ; 
and he had left but a small- provision for his 
wife and children — barely sufficient to man- 
age with, in a cheap boarding-house, until 
Roddy was old enough to do without his 
mother’s constant care. Then she had suc- 
ceeded in getting a situation as a teacher in 
a public school, and taken apartments where 
they kept house themselves, and had what 
seemed something like a hom-e once more. 

Jessie liked the life in a “ flat ” very much. 
It was so cosy, she thought, all the rooms 
opening one into another, with glass doors 
between, that made them all so light and 
bright ; ho tiresome stairs up to the attic 
and down to the kitchen ; and yet everything 
as retired and private, as if they were in a 
house by themselves. 

2 


14 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


“We have people over ns and under us, as 
well as alongside of us, that is all,” Jessie 
would say. “ And as to meeting them on the 
stairs, why we have to meet people on the 
street, don’t we ? And what ’s the difference ? 
Anyhow, it ’s a great deal nicer than board- 
ing, where you have to eat in public, too; 
and we could n’t afford a whole house — so 
I ’m very glad there are such things as ‘ flats,’ 
Anything for a home of one’s own I ” 

Mrs. Lang quite agreed with her daughter ; 
and they both took real comfort in this cosy 
little “ home of their own.” It was not in 
• one of the grand department-houses so fash- 
ionable tiowadays, which are more like hotels 
than anything else, with their high-sounding 
titles, their carpeted and frescoed halls, steam- 
heaters, and lordly janitors. Anything of 
that sort was far beyond their means, and did 
not enter into their desires. 

No, their “ home ” was on the third story 
of a plain brown house, in a quiet street; 
pretty high up it seemed from the ground, 
but all the airier and lighter when you got 
up to it. There were six rooms, all commu- 
nicating with each other. First, the parlor, 
very simply furnished, but very pretty and 


AT HOME. 


15 


tasteful, with, its white muslin curtains, its 
hanging-baskets of ivy and smilax, its few, 
but well-chosen, books and pictures. Then 
the two neat little bedrooms; the sunny, 
cheerful dining-room, where Jessie’s canary 
flew about all day long, free as the air, and 
only going into his cage when he chose to. 
Next, the cunning little kitchen, which looked 
almost as if it were meant for doll’s house- 
keeping, where Jessie was now busy making 
her mother’s gruel, and where she dearly en- 
joyed being allowed to play cook ; and lastly, 
out in the little “private hall,” the bath- 
room, with its big tub, where Jessie and 
Eoddy had so many famous water-frolics to- 
. gether. 

It was all very pleasant and very home- 
like ; and, as I said before, Jessie and her 
mother took the comfort of it. Though Mrs. 
Lang’s duties were exacting and responsible ; 
though she was obliged to go out every day, 
no matter what was the state of the weather, 
or of her feelings; though she often came 
home wearied out in mind and body, from 
the great class of sixty boys who were in her 
charge, still it always seemed like a haven of 
refuge to her, this cheerful little home ; and 


16 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


Jessie helped her as much as she could in the 
work which had yet to be done after the 
school-hours and school-duties were ended. 

There was an elevator, or “ dummy,” as the 
children called it, extending from the ground 
floor up to the top of the house, upon which 
they could draw up their wood and coal from 
their division of the cellar ; so that they could 
manage to do all their work themselves, ex- 
cept their washing. For this Mrs. Lang had 
neither time nor strength, and she had a 
woman come every week to do it for her. 

This woman was a very strange sort of 
person, Jessie used to think, when she first 
came to work for Mrs. Lang. She was a 
German, and spoke English in an odd, broken 
way, and there was a peculiar look in her face 
at times — a look as though her mind was not 
with her body at all, but wandering far, far 
back into some troubled past. She would 
seem not to hear when she was spoken to for 
a moment, and then her thoughts would come 
back all of a sudden, and she would start and 
•say, “ Yas you speakin’, madame? Egscooze 
me — I no hear ver well.” She was a tall, 
raw-boned woman, with eyes deep set in her 
head; and Jessie used to say, “I don’t know. 


AT HOME. 


17 


motlier, what makes me feel so ; but she looks 
to me as if she was cryinff inside all the 
time I ” 

Mrs. Lang found her very good and faithful, 
however, and particularly kind and gentle to 
children. It had been a great trouble and 
anxiety to her to know what to do with little 
Eoddy while she was at school. The child, 
of course, was too young to go, for he was 
not yet four years old ; and it had been ar- 
ranged, when his mother first obtained the 
position at school, that he should pass the 
hours of her absence with a friend of hers 
who lived in the house. It was on account 
of this friend being here that they had de- 
cided on coming themselves ; and at first the 
plan worked very well. 

But the lady had children of her own, and 
they were used to each other’s ways, and ac- 
customed to get along comfortably together. 
But little Eoddy was a stranger, and a good 
deal younger than any of the little Grants, 
and had always been petted a great deal as 
“ the baby ” at home. They all had wills and 
ways of their own, as children, no less than 
grown-up people, are apt to have ; and there 
2* B 


\ 


18 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


was a good deal more friction among them 
than was agreeable to either of their mothers. 

Koddj’s mother could not afford to pay 
enough to make it worth Mrs. Grant’s while 
to continue a charge which proved trouble- 
some, and she was sorely troubled to know 
what new disposal to make of the little fel- 
low, whose welfare and happiness were the 
nearest things to her heart. 

“I only wish other people found him as 
lovable as you seem to do, Mrs. Yogt,” she 
said one Saturday morning, coming into the 
kitchen and finding the washerwoman with 
both arms, bare and red from the suds, twin- 
ing round Eoddy in an embrace so tight that 
the little fellow cried out, half laughing, half 
afraid. 

“ Is it not lofe de little child ? ” asked the 
woman, lifting her sunken, dark eyes with a 
sudden, strange gleam in them. “ Ach, Him- 
mel ! how can dey helf lofing him ? See his 
eyes — dey haf de blue of heaven in dem. I 
lofe him; I wish he was mine own heart’s 
liebling.” 

“You are fond of children, then?” said 
Mrs. Lang, much pleased at the affection her 
little man had inspired. “So many people 


AT HOME. 


19 


think them only a bother ; but I see you are 
always very kind and patient with them. 
Did you never have any of your own ? ” 

The woman started, and fixed that strange, 
troubled look again on Mrs. Lang’s face. 

“I — haf a child ? Yes — I had one once ; 
I haf him no more,” she answered, speaking 
in a low, constrained voice, and stooping down 
again over Koddy’s curly head, as though to 
keep her face out of sight. 

Mrs. Lang saw that the subject was painful 
to her, so she only said, gently, “ It is a com- 
fort to know that God loves our little ones, 
too ; ” and then she added, “By the way, Mrs. 
Vogt, an idea has just occurred to me, seeing 
you so kind to Eoddy. You don’t go out 
washing anywhere but here, I think you told 
me? ” 

“ Nowhere but here,” said Mrs. V ogt ; “ be- 
cause you iron your ownself. I haf mine 
Oder washing all at mine own house. I haf 
one nice little house, mit one pretty leetle gar- 
den und trees und flowers. But it is empty ; 
it is still. Dere is no leetle kindlein like dis 
to make noise und dirt und sunshine.” 

She nestled Eoddy closer still up to her 
breast, as she knelt beside him on the floor ; 


20 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


and Mrs. Lang went on in a very encouraged 
tone : 

“Well, that was just what I was going to 
speak about,” she said. “ I know you have a 
nice house, with shady ground around it. I 
went there, you know, with Mrs. Grant, when 
I engaged you to come to me. Mrs. Grant 
told me she had known you a good while, 
and spoke very highly of you ; and I saw my- 
self how clean and comfortable your little 
home was. 

“ I have seen since then, all these months 
that you have been with me, how good you 
have been to my little boy, and how contented 
the child is with you. I have to leave him 
in some one else’s care, you know, five days 
of the week, while I am at school ; and I am 
not quite satisfied with the way he has been 
getting on. The big children tease him, and 
he exacts too much from them. Besides, he 
has to be shut up in the house all day, or else 
play in the street — our yard is so small, and 
clothes always drying in it. Now, at your 
house, he could play out in your garden all 
day, and dig and carry dirt in his little cart 
as much as he liked. And you know how to 
manage him so well, and you say you are so 


AT HOME. 


21 


fond of him, I wonder if I could make it 
worth your while to let him come and stay 
with you every day from nine till four ? Jes- 
sie could leave him on her way to school — 
she passes by your house — and call for him 
in the afternoon. It would be a great relief 
to me, for Mrs. Grant cannot have him any 
longer, and I think the child would be hap- 
pier. But I can’t pay a great deal, you know.” 

Mrs. Yogt had listened eagerly to this long 
explanation; and now she said, in a quick 
way, “ Is it money you speak of ? I wants no 
money mit de leetle child. I likes to haf 
him ; mine house it is empty. I will be glad 
to take him efery day, and he ’ll make mine 
heart feel warm again.” She picked the 
child up and set him in her lap with a look 
as though he already belonged to her. 

“You vill come to mine house, vill you 
not, liebling ? ” she asked, tenderly, “ und 
play in mine garden, und eat mine kuchen ? 
You likes mine kuchen; is it not- true, eh, 
kindchen ? ” 

“Yes, Eoddy likes cookies; Eoddy likes 
to dig in the dirt,” said the boy promptly, 
and his mother laughed, and drew a long 
breath of relief. 


22 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


“Then it is all settled,” she said; “and 
I shall feel so grateful to you, Mrs. Vogt. 
Somehow I feel I can trust you with my 
child ; only, of course, you must let me pay 
you. I could not feel satisfied, otherwise.” 

So Eoddy went off every morning like 
a little man, with his sister, and returned 
in the afternoon, healthy and happy. His 
mother felt much more at ease about him ; 
and as for Mrs. V ogt, Jessie said she did n’t 
look half so much as if she was “ crying in- 
side ” nowadays ! 


CHAPTER 11. 

AT CHURCH. 



LL this while we have left Jessie busy 


A with her mother’s gruel in the bright, 
little, make-believe kitchen. But she has not 
stayed there all the time that it has taken us 
to make you acquainted with her home and 
her household. No, indeed : she has been to 
Sunday-school, said her lesson and her hymn, 
attended carefully to the explanation on the 
blackboard, got her fresh new copy of the 
Child’s Paper, and is now sitting in her 
mother’s little half-pew in church, listening 
earnestly to something the minister is saying 
before he begins his sermon. 

It was the “ Flower Charity ” he was speak- 
ing of, and as Jessie loved flowers dearly, but 
had never heard of any special “ charity ” 
connected with them, she was very much in- 
terested in hearing all about it. 

He told how the idea had first come to a 
gentle -hearted lady who loved flowers her- 


23 


24 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


self, and took delight in having them around 
her. She knew that all throughout the great 
city there were very many poor, sick people, 
lying ill in bare, desolate-looking rooms, with 
naked floors and walls, and not a book or 
picture, or single object of beauty, upon 
which the weary eyes could rest with pleas- 
ure. She remembered the pitiful words of 
the poor seamstress in her garret — 

“A wall so blank, 

My shadow I thank 

For sometimes falling there ! ” 

And she felt sure that though flowers could 
neither give food nor drink, nor relief from 
burning fever and aching pain, yet they would 
bring in some of their own freshness and 
sweetness to even the dreariest sick-room. 
They would make one bright spot at least for 
the tired gaze to turn to ; their delicate beauty 
and perfume would suggest a thought of the 
goodness of God to the most doubtful and 
despairing hearts ; while to some gentle and 
sorrowful souls, shut out by poverty from the 
beauty they loved, these sweet messengers 
would be more precious than even the dainty 
food their sick fancies might crave. 


AT CHURCH. 


25 


This was what the lady thought, and she 
proved its truth by trying the experiment 
first herself. She had a garden and green- 
house full of lovely flowers ; and every day 
she gathered the most beautiful of them, — the 
sweetest blossoms, the freshest green leaves 
— and carried them herself, daintily arranged 
in baskets, with bright drops sparkling upon 
them, to the poor homes where poverty and 
disease had taken up their abode. Every- 
where she went, she found herself welcomed 
with grateful surprise. 

“Are they for us? those beautiful flow- 
ers ! Oh, how good of you ! When did we 
have anything so lovely before? They will 
be better than medicine to the sick one ! ” 

So said one and another, and then they 
would make haste to fill some vessel with 
water, if it were only a broken pitcher or 
cracked glass, lest the precious things should 
lose a particle of their freshness^ and then set 
them eagerly in some place where the eye of 
the sufferer could rest easily upon them, and 
drink in the comfort of their beauty. 

Finding her faith in the mission of the 
flowers so surely confirmed, the lady told 
others of her labor of love, and won them to 
3 


26 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


help her in the beautiful work. One after an- 
other of her friends brought the treasures 
of their gardens and greenhouses to her, and 
shared with her the gracious task of carrying 
them with their own hands to sick-rooms 
everywhere — in hospitals, in asylums, in all 
manner of bare and poverty-stricken homes. 
And everywhere, and among every sort of 
people, the same experience was met with. 
People looked at the stranger flower-bearers, 
first with astonishment and doubt, then with 
touched and grateful pleasure, and took the 
gentle offerings with smiles and thanks, some- 
times with tears and kisses. 

So it had gone on, the minister said, until 
now the Flower-Mission was regularly en- 
rolled among her sweet sister charities, and 
people everywhere were interested in helping 
it. They had not done anything yet in its 
behalf in that church, he said ; but he wished 
his people also to have a share in the beau- 
tiful work. He would like to have the mem- 
bers of his congregation, as many of them as 
could, meet in the Sunday-school room on 
the morrow, bringing what treasure of flow- 
ers they might chance to have, be it great or 
small, and make a beginning. It was early 


AT CHURCH. 


27 


yet, he said, only the middle of April ; hnt 
he had noticed that spring had already been 
busy scattering her fragrant treasures here 
and there. Only that morning, in walking 
to church, he had seen great lilac bushes 
purple with bloom, and smelled the sweet 
breath of violets hiding under their green 
leaves. The commonest flowers were often 
as charming as the rarest, and any offering, 
however small and simple, would be accepted 
kindly, as it was offered. 

“Any offering ! ” repeated Jessie to herself, 
as the minister ceased spewing. Her eyes 
sparkled, and the color came into her cheek. 
“Then I can do something to help comfort those 
poor, sick people ; for I counted seven buds on 
my white rose-bush yesterday, and two of them 
will be at least half-blown by to-morrow. 
Then I have some heliotrope, that ’s so sweet ! 
— and the pansies . are opening in my little 
garden. I do believe I can make up one 
little bunch for to-morrow, and by another 
week, if this pleasant weather lasts, the early 
pinks and the valley-lilies will be out. It 
won’t be much, but he said even the smallest 
offering, and every little helps, as mother says 


28 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


SO often ! I hope mother ’s having a nice good 
nap this very minute!” 

By this time the minister had finished 
reading one or two more announcements 
which he had to make, and was giving out 
his text — 

“ Consider the lilies of the field.’' 

The words caught Jessie’s ear, and she set- 
tled herself quietly to listen to the sermon, 
and put ofif planning about her own special 
flower-treasures until church was out, and she 
was at home again. 

Then, however, after she had given her 
mother her warm gruel, and run up- stairs to 
fetch Eoddy, and set out their own nice little 
luncheon, she began eagerly to tell the story 
of the Flower- Mission which, she had heard 
that morning, and bespoke her mother’s sym- 
pathy in the new interest which had so touched 
her own heart. 

“ Oh, I ’m so glad, mamma, that your head 
is better 1 For your own sake, most, of course ; 
and then because I do want to talk to you about 
what the minister told us this morning. See 
now,” and she jumped up in her excitement, 
and, running to their “window-garden,” took 
up the pot which held her own special rose- 


AT CHURCH. 


29 


bush, and carried it eagerly to her mother’s 
bedside. 

“ See how beautifully these buds are open- 
ing I Little darlings! I hope you’ll make 
some poor, sick body as happy as you do me 1 
You won’t mind my giving them away, will 
you, mamma dear ? I ’ll keep one back for 
you, and one for Miss Leighton — ” 

“And one for Eoddy! ” said the little boy, 
stopping with a spoonful of custard half-way 
to his mouth, in his delight at seeing his sis- 
ter’s excitement, though he did n’t under- 
stand what it was about. 

“Yes, of course, one for Eoddy. So you 
won’t mind, will you, mother ? ” 

“ I don’t suppose I shall,” her mother an- 
swered, with a little smile ; “ but I would n’t 
carry that heavy flower-pot about, if I were 
you. Suppose you put it down now, and tell 
me all about it. I don’t think I quite under- 
stand what you want to do.” 

Jessie put the rose-bush back in its place, 
and then began in order, and told her mother 
all she had heard about the beautiful new 
charity, and how she wished to help it. 

“ I have so little to give, you know, mother ; 
but I like to help I ” she said. Mrs. Lang was 
3 * 


30 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

as much interested as Jessie could wish, and 
said she might cut some geranium leaves, too, 
and a spray of her own favorite lemon- verbena. 
So Jessie was quite delighted, and looked 
forward with great satisfaction to the little 
offering she was to make to-morrow. It 
would be small, but it would be dainty and 
fragrant, and anyhow it would be the best 
she could do. 

It made a pleasant back-ground to her 
thoughts all that quiet Sabbath afternoon, 
while she was busied in cares for her mother, 
or attending to her little brother. When she 
sat down to read the chapter which her 
mother asked for, she chose the one in Isaiah 
where it speaks of the desert blossoming “ as 
the rose and her mother told her how it 
was recorded that Solomon the wise was in- 
terested in green things growing, and “spake 
of trees, from the cedar- tree that is in Lebanon 
even unto the hyssop that springeth out of 
the wall.” (1 Kings iv. 33.) 

She told her how thoughtful and tender 
minds in all ages had seen the goodness of 
God shining forth in the gentle beauty of the 
flowers ; how many sweet and solemn strains 
had been written about them ; and she re- 


AT CHURCH. 


31 


peated to her little daughter, from memory, 
Mary Howitt’s charming lines — 

“ God might have made the earth bring forth 
Enough for great and small ; 

The oak-tree and the cedar-tree. 

And not a flower at all.” 

Then she found for her the pretty hymn in 
Jessie’s Sunday-school hymn-book, beginning 

“By cool Siloam’s shady rill, 

How fair the lily blows! 

How sweet the breath beneath the hill 
Of Sharon’s dewy rose I ” 

And Jessie, delighted, put a marker in the 
place, and determined to begin to study it for 
next Sunday, as soon as she had put her little 
brother to bed, and all was quiet for the even- 
ing. 

It was, perhaps, because Mrs. Lang had such 
a happy way of connecting the beautiful and 
the interesting with her teachings that the 
thought of religion was always sweet and 
pleasant, instead of gloomy and disagreeable, 
to her little daughter. Jessie had been taught, 
of course, tl^^^e law as well as the gospel ; but 
she had naturally a loving, humble spirit, and 
it had never been a hard task for her to givo 


32 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


her heart to Jesus, and to prefer his will to 
her own. 

“ How could I help loving One who loved 
me so much first? ” she would have answered, 
had any one asked her about it. And she did 
love Him, and his church, and his holy day. 
And the remembrance of his tender saying, 
“ Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of 
the least of these, my brethren, ye have done 
it unto me,” added the purest sweetness to 
her pleasure in the simple offering she was 
going to make. 

She was up betimes in the morning. They 
had always to rise early, both she and her 
mother ; for Eoddy was to be dressed, break- 
fast prepared, and everything put in order, 
before they all started off‘, leaving the house 
shut up till the afternoon. But this morn- 
ing there was a new, delightful task, and 
Jessie “ flew round,” doing up her “ chores,” 
like a veritable little house-fairy. 

“Now, I have finished everything, I be- 
lieve,” she said, presently ; “and now, mother, 
I ’ll run down and gather the pansies. Maybe 
I ’ll find something else, too ; and you cut the 
geraniums, won’t you, please, while I ’m gone?” 

Her mother smiled “Yes,” and Jessie ran 


AT CHURCH. 


33 


off, not minding the three long flights of 
stairs, in her eagerness, and the next minute 
was standing out in the back-yard, where the 
“ first-floor washerwoman ” was already hang- 
ing out lines full of newly-washed clothes. 

It was not the best place in the world for 
the raising of flowers ; still, each of the dif- 
ferent families in the house had undertaken 
the charge of a border, and during the sum- 
mer, on days when there were no clothes 
flapping on the line, the little garden looked 
very pretty, with its square of green grass 
in the centre, and its borders gay with sweet- 
williams, lady-slippers, and gold and red nas- 
turtiums. 

It was too early yet for much of a dis- 
play. Jessie could find only a few purple, 
velvety pansies here and there, and two or 
three brown pineapple-shrubs just opening 
on their bush. These last, though so sombre 
in color, had a most exquisite fruity perfume, 
and Jessie bruised one slightly in her fingers, 
and inhaled the delicious scent with keen de- 
light. 

“ W ell, my bouquet will be very sober-look- 
ing, I know,” she said to herself, a little rue- 
fully ; “ there is n’t a single bright flower for 


34 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


it; but, anyhow, it will be sweet all through, 
and that ’s better. Still, I do wish I had just 
a little bit of color for it — to please the poor 
sick eyes. It ’s too bad that last frost killed 
all my crocuses and jonquils ! ” 

Even while she was thinking this, and 
looking wistfully up and down the scanty 
borders, her eye suddenly caught the glint 
of gold, brighter than the sunshine itself, 
gleaming out from a tuft of thick green 
grass. 

“ Oh,” said Jessie, springing eagerly to- 
wards it, “there are two little golden dan- 
delions hiding away in the corner ! They ’re 
just the bit of color I want! But then,” 
and she stood still for a moment, looking 
doubtfully down upon them, “ they say they 
are nothing but weeds, and people might 
laugh to see weeds put into a bouquet 1 ” 

“ Never mind 1 ” and she stooped, with a 
sudden resolve, and gathered the little blos- 
soms that shone out so cheerily, alone and 
neglected. “ I like you because you always 
look so bright and happy, and perhaps some 
poor, sick body will too. I don’t see why 
you ’re not just as nice as the little yellow 
roses people take such pains to twine round 


AT CHURCH. 


35 


their porches. You look very like ’em, and 
they have n’t got any perfume any more than 
you. I guess you’re their country cousin, 
and I ’m going to put you in. If any one 
wants to laugh, they may. God made you 
just the same as they I ” 

So she placed the gay little plebeian blos- 
soms among the aristocratic pansies, in their 
rich robes of velvet, and carried them up 
into the house together. Her mother smiled 
when she saw the dandelions, but said she did 
not think they looked amiss, and in a few 
minutes more the wonderful bouquet was 
ready. 

“See now, mother; it is pretty, isn’t it?” 
said Jessie, holding it up and surveying it 
with great satisfaction. “ The white rosebuds 
and the green geraniums look so cool and 
fresh, and the heliotrope and shrubs are so 
sweet, and the pansies so soft and rich ; and 
the dear little dandelions brighten it all up ! 
Come now, mamma, say it will do, and will 
maybe give somebody a little bit of pleas- 
ure 1 ” 

“ I think it will do beautifully,” said her 
mother ; “ and it has already given you and 
me a great deal of pleasure. So put it in the 


36 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


box now, and come, or we shall all be late at 
school to-day.” 

“Well, there! take a last shower-bath, 
pinky-posy,” said Jessie, scattering some 
bright drops of water over the fragrant clus- 
ters. “ Go now, and take Jessie’s love to the 
poor sick people, and tell them she hopes 
you will make them forget their pain just a 
little while! Come mamma — come Eoddy; , 
I ’m all ready now, and I shall be down first, 
after all ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 

JESSIE*S POSY, 

I T was still so early when Jessie stopped 
at the church to leave her little offering, 
that there was no one there but the sexton, 
doing his Monday’s work of sweeping and 
dusting. He consented to take charge of the 
box and place it among the other boxes and 
baskets when they began to arrive ; and Jes- 
sie went off to school with a light heart, and 
somehow felt happier and brighter than usual 
all day long. 

She did not hear anything more about the 
Flower-Mission during the week, and indeed 
she had no thought of ever hearing anything 
in particular about so humble a little offering 
as hers. She had not forgotten her interest 
in the matter, however, and she was glad 
when on the next Sunday, before the text 
was given out, the minister began to speak 
of it again. 

4 


37 


38 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


He had been very much pleased, he said, 
by the large attendance and the liberal offer- 
ings last Monday. He was surprised and 
gratified by the kind interest shown towards 
his plan ; and to encourage his people to con- 
tinue in the sweet work, he wished to tell 
them that most favorable reports had come in 
from each one of the volunteers who had un- 
dertaken to carry the offerings to the homes 
of the sick poor. In every case the flower- 
gift had been most gladly welcomed. Many 
of the people to whom they were offered, had 
had gifts of food and fuel — the necessities of 
life — brought to them before. But until now, 
no one had seemed to remember that even such 
poor people might still have some of the finer 
feelings left — some love of the beautiful, some 
craving for more than mere food and warmth. 

“I have not had a rose in my hand for 
years!” said one poor seamstress, dying of 
consumption. “ It almost makes me feel well 
again 1 ” And so they all felt, as if it were 
something more than mere charity — a deli- 
cate attention, a real courtesy. It made 
them think better of their poor selves that 
gently-bred ladies should think them worth 
such consideration, and their troubled minds 


Jessie’s posy. 


39 


were eased as well as their weary eyes by 
the presence of the lovely gifts. Immediate 
good had been brought about in several in- 
stances. One coarse, slatternly -looki ng woman, 
whose room was the very home of dirt, had 
broken out eagerly, when a great bunch of 
lilacs and snow -balls was offered to her: 
“Oh, my! is thim beautiful posies all for 
me? Then I’ll clane my place this very 
hour, sure, to make it fit for ’em ! ” And 
another, who had refused positively to allow 
a breath of fresh air to enter into the little 
stifling den where she had lain ill for weeks, 
said at once, — 

“ Well, you must open the window now, I 
suppose. No matter if I am chilly ; I can’t 
let my flowers fade ! ” 

But one instance, in particular, the minister 
wished to mention. It was at the hospital, 
and the pale, haggard-looking sufferers, who 
occupied the long rows of beds, were watch- 
ing the ladies as they took out one by one the 
bouquets from their baskets ; and a brighter 
look came into their weary eyes, as they caught 
a glimpse of the brilliant colors, and perceived 
a delicious perfume stealing towards them in 
the midst of the bitter odor of drugs. Sud- 


40 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


denly one of the ladies heard a long-drawn 
“ah-h!” from a cot near by, and turning 
round, she met the eager gaze of a rough- 
looking boy who lay stretched very stiff and 
straight upon his narrow bed. 

“ Oh, gi’ me that one, please. Missis ! ” he 
begged, in a hoarse whisper, as soon as he saw 
she noticed him. “ That little one in yer hand, 
ma’am, wi’ the dandy -lion in it ! I dunno much 
about the fine flowers, but that puts me in 
mind o’ my old home in the country, where I 
used to tumble about in the grass with ’em. 
I sha’ n’t never tumble about in the grass no 
more, but I ’d like to have the dandy-lion, jes’ 
to make believe ! ” 

Poor little fellow ! he had been brought to 
the hospital the week before with a leg and 
arm each broken. He was a newsboy, and 
he had slipped in jumping off a car, and a 
wagon had rolled over his body. The leg 
was terribly crushed, and had to be taken off. 
Fever had set in after the operation, and 
the poor lad had moaned and cried with the 
pain almost ever since. He had cared noth- 
ing for food, and the first thing that seemed 
to take his thoughts from his sufferings was 
the sight of the homely little flower that he 


JESSIE^S POSY. 


41 


was used to in his childhood. It made him 
forget that he was bound stiff and straight 
on a bed of anguish ; it made him believe, 
for a moment, that he was a little lad again, 
at home in the country, tumbling about with 
the dandelions in the grass. Certainly the 
giver of that little bunch of flowers might 
feel sure that she had had her reward. 

The minister stopped, for something rose 
in his throat that made it difficult for him 
to speak plain. All over the church, people 
were taking out handkerchiefs to dry eyes 
that had suddenly become wet; and as for 
Jessie, she was quivering with emotion. 

“ Oh, mother P’ she whispered, her face suf- 
fused with color, and her eyes sparkling 
through tears ; “ that was my bouquet ; don’t 
you know ? Oh, I ’m so glad I put the dan- 
delions in!” 

Her mother squeezed her hand silently; 
tears were in her own eyes ; and now the 
minister had recovered his voice, and was 
speaking again. 

“ One word more,” he said. “ The boy of 
whom I have been speaking, is one of those 
poor little waifs who swarm in great cities 
like this, who have no home but the streets, 

4 * 


42 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


and pick up a living how and where they 
can. He does not seem to have any friends 
to come and see him, or do anything to 
help him in his great trouble. The lady who 
took the flowers to the hospital tried to have 
him tell her something about himself; but 
he seemed shy and timid with her. He told 
the nurse afterwards that he would like to 
see the one who had sent his posy, as he 
called it. He thought, if she liked dande- 
lions, he would not be afraid to talk to her. 
And I would take the liberty of suggesting, 
that if the gentle soul who made that simple 
offering, evidently all that she had, would 
add to her kindness by going to see that poor 
little, friendless sufferer, she would find her 
reward in the comfort her sympathy would 
give him in the midst of his pain and weari- 
ness and desolation, and would win the ap- 
proval of Him who graciously said, ‘ She hath 
done what she could.’ ” 

The minister ceased speaking again, and 
began to turn over the leaves of the great 
Bible. People drew a long breath, and set- 
tled themselves to listen to the sermon — all 
the more earnestly, that their hearts had been 
touched by the divine spark of sympathy ! — 


Jessie’s posy. 


43 


and little Jessie Lang tried to control the ex- 
citement that possessed her, the mingled emo- 
tions of joy and pity, and bring her mind, 
too, to the effort of understanding what was 
said from the pulpit. 

She could not quite compel her attention 
at first ; the little drama of her bouquet was 
quite an event in her childish life, and her 
thoughts would go wandering to the poor 
newsboy, lying sick and alone in the great 
hospital ward, and having no comfort except 
what he could find in her poor little dande- 
lions. But Jessie knew and felt the meaning 
of the command, “ The Lord is in his holy 
temple ; let all the earth keep silence before 
him ; ” and she knew that it was wrong for 
her to think her own thoughts, when the 
minister of God was telling her of higher 
and holier things. 

So she made a quick effort, and brought 
her whole attention to what Mr. Chester was 
saying ; and as he had a happy way of using 
simple, clear, direct language, that even a child 
might understand, Jessie soon found herself 
first interested, and then touched and roused 
by his sermon. 

When church was over, however, and she 


44 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

and her mother were walking home side by 
side, the thought of the poor boy, and his wish 
to see her, eame back to her mind with fresh 
eagerness. 

“ Oh, mother, do you think I should go ? ” 
she asked, all in a glow of excitement again. 
“ Do you think I could really be of any com- 
fort to the poor little fellow ? If you would 
only go, now, it would be worth while ! ” 

But her mother said, “No. I don’t like to 
be away from Eoddy so much on Sunday, for 
one thing ; and for another, I think you would 
do much better alone. Y on know Mr. Chester 
said he was shy and distant with the other 
ladies, and it is likely he would be the same 
with me. But when he sees you are. only a 
child like himself, he will probably talk to 
you about himself, and we may be able to 
help him in some way. You had better go 
this very afternoon ; he may be in great suf- 
fering still. Eoddy and I will walk over to 
the hospital with you ; it is only a few blocks 
away, you know ; and I will see you safely 
admitted, and then leave you. And you may 
take some of the lemon-jelly I made yester- 
day : it is cooling and pleasant to sick people ; 
and if there is anything the poor child has a 


Jessie’s posy. 45 

fancy for, perhaps we can manage to get it for 
him.” 

“ Yes, and I ’ll take some more dandelions ; 
the grass is full of them now, dear little golden 
stars ! ” said Jessie, coloring in her enthusiasm ; 
and Mrs. Lang smiled, and said she might do 
about that as she liked. 


CHAPTER IV. 

AT THE HOSPITAL, 

J ESSIE LANG was not naturally bold and 
free-spoken, as so many little girls are. 
She was a modest and sensitive child, and she 
felt not a little timid and embarrassed that 
afternoon, when, after her mother had suc- 
ceeded in getting her admitted, and had left 
her, she found herself alone with the matron, 
and walking down the long ward towards the 
cot on which the poor little newsboy was 
lying. 

She felt timid and embarrassed, but she was 
not foolishly shy and bashful ; and she went 
quietly forward, and stood by the bedside 
while the matron spoke to the patient and 
endeavored to get his attention. 

“ Here, Johnny,” she said, with a sort of 
bustling kindness ; “ turn over now, and look 
this way. Here’s the little lady that sent 
. the nice bouquet you took a fancy to. She ’s 

4G 


AT THE HOSPITAL. 


47 


brought you some beautiful jelly. Look 
this way, now, and say thank ’y. I guess 
you feel better this afternoon, don’t you ? ” 

She nodded and smiled at Jessie. “ He ’ll 
come round by and by,” she said, and then 
stepped briskly down the room to attend to 
some patient who was making signs to her 
from the end of the long ward. 

But the boy did n’t show any inclination 
to “come round.” He lay quite still, with 
his face turned to the wall, and a sullen look 
clouding his pale, pain -drawn features. Jes- 
sie waited a minute or two for him to speak, 
but, as he continued to take no notice, she 
said softly, — 

“ Poor boy ! I ’m afraid you don’t feel any 
better. It must be dreadful to have to lie 
here and suffer so. I feel so sorry ffor you ! ” 

The boy gave a grunt. 

“ Dreadful ? ” he said, in a hoarse, irritated 
whisper. “You bet! An’ she always says 
I’m better when I ain’t better, no such a 
thing. An’ what does she call me Johnny, 
for ? My name ain’t Johnny. An’ I never 
said it was.” 

Jessie felt a little startled at this odd 
speech. “What a funny boy he is!” she 


48 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


thought. “ But then, of course, a poor little 
newsboy, how can he help being rough? 
And it is aggravating to be told you’re bet- 
ter when you don’t feel so yourself a bit.” 

She spoke again very softly and soothingly. 

“ The matron wanted to cheer you up,” she 
said. “ She does feel sorry for you, for she 
told my mother so. But I suppose she sees 
so many sick people all the time. And she 
does really think you ’re getting better. But 
I suppose the pain is dreadful ? ” 

“ Umph! I guess you would s’pose so, if 
you had it a-grindin’ an’ a-grindin’, an’ a- 
pinchin’ an’ a-pinchin’ at you all day long, 
an’ all night long, an’ things a- ringin’ in your 
head, an’ a buzzin’ in your ears, wi’ the stuff 
they give you, an’ nothin’ to cheer you up but 
the thought o’ bein’ a cripple all the rest o’ 
your days. Oh, it ’s jest lovely, you bet ! ” 

“ Poor fellow I ” said Jessie, touched with 
deep pity. “It is very hard. I hardly see 
how you can bear it ! But then, ” she tried 
to think of some little word of comfort, 
“ there must be some good to come out of 
it. God loves us, you know, just like, why^ 
just like our mothers. I remember a verse 
that says, ‘ As one whom his mother com- 


AT THE HOSPITAL. 


49 


forteth, so will I comfort you,’ (Isaiah Ixvi. 
13;) and our mothers wouldn’t hurt us 
for nothing, you know. They love us too 
much ! ” 

The boy made a sort of grimace of pain 
and anger. “ Humph I ” he muttered, in a 
bitter, disdainful tone. “ I guess all the love 
my mother ever gave me would n’t hurt her, 
nor anybody else. An’ I guess the Lord 
hain’t got much more for me. I ’m a healthy 
lookin’ objeck to love, ain’t I? But I don’t 
care. I shall live till I die, I s’pose, somehow 
or another.” 

Jessie could not see his face, but there was 
something in his voice that made her think 
she had better not talk much to him just 
then. So she only said, “ I ’ve brought you 
some lemon -jelly mother made. You ’ll like 
it, I know. It tastes so cool and pleasant in 
your mouth. Try a bit, won’t you? Can 
you turn over, or shall I stand up and feed it 
to you ? ” 

She spoke so gently, with such real pitiful 
feeling in her sweet young voice, that the 
rough boy’s surly mood began to melt, in 
spite of him. He gave a sort of hitch, and 
turned himself a little more towards the 
6 D 


60 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


front side of his cot. Jessie could see his 
face now, and he hers ; and the tender, pity- 
ing look in her eyes, bent softly upon him, 
touched his rough little heart. 

“ I dunno why you should care so much,” 
he said, in a different tone, looking at her as 
she sat there holding the* glass dish in her 
hands, and letting his eyes rest upon her fair 
sweet face, her wavy brown hair, her trim 
little figure in its fresh spring suit of gray, 
with the bit of rose-color at her throat and 
in her hat. “You ain’t the likes o’ me, an’ 
nobody else never cared nothin’ about me. 
’Cause I ain’t worth it, I s’pose.” 

“ Oh, yes, you are ; and you must n’t talk so,” 
said Jessie, earnestly. “Of course, I don’t 
know about any of the rest of your folks, but 
I do know about God, and you must believe 
what I tell you ! He is your Father just as 
well as mine, and He loves you, if nobody 
else does. So you must not feel so bad, and 
you must not talk any more now. You must 
eat some of this jelly right away. You will, 
I know, to please me.” 

She set the dish down on a stand beside the 
bed, and proceeded to take off her pretty gray 
gloves; then she unfolded her white hand- 


AT THE HOSPITAL. 


51 


kerchief, and spread it across her lap ; and the 
sick boy followed each of her motions with 
his haggard eyes, while something almost 
like brightness came into his face. 

“Now,” said Jessie, cheerily, taking the 
cover off the dish, and plunging a silver spoon, 
which -she took wrapped in white paper from 
her pocket, into the quivering amber mass, 
“ does n’t that look pretty ? Can you take it 
yourself? If your arm — ” 

She stopped, for the light vanished again 
out of the rough, pale, little face on the pillow. 

“ Yes, my arm, too,” said the boy, in the old 
harsh tone. “ I can’t feed myself ; I can’t raise 
up to git at nothin’. I ’m no better than a 
baby. Never mind ; you ain’t agoing to bother 
to feed me. Leave it there till she comes.” 

“No, indeed, it is no bother at all,” said 
Jessie, quickly. “And I want to have the 
pleasure of seeing you enj oy it, myself. No — 
don’t you turn away! Just be good now, 
please. Open your mouth: there, now. It 
is nice, isn’t it? Here’s another spoonful. 
There, don’t be foolish; indeed, I like to 
do it.” 

She was so simple, so earnest, and the cool, 
fruity jelly was so refreshing to the poor boy’s 


62 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


hot, dry lips, that he did not try to resist her 
any longer,. He lay as quiet as a child whom 
his mother is feeding, opening his mouth, and 
letting the fragrant morsels slip down his 
throat, while Jessie stood watching him with 
pitpng eyes. 

Poor fellow ! she thought it was hard enough 
to he so poor, and to get hurt so terribly, and 
have to suffer so much, and be a cripple for 
life ; but with a mother that loved you, and a 
sure feeling that God was your friend, Jessie 
thought even that might be cheerfully borne. 
But not to have anybody’s love to believe in, 
and to lean on — oh, that must be dreadful, 
indeed ! She wondered what sort of a mother 
the little newsboy could have had, that he 
did n’t believe she had loved him. It could n’t 
have been all the boy’s fault, she thought : to 
be sure, he was rough-spoken, and a little 
“ugly” that afternoon; but then he had so 
much to bear, and he couldn’t be really bad, 
or he would n’t have cared so much about her 
poor little flowers ! 

This thought reminded her of something, 
and she hastened to speak of it. 

“ Oh, I had almost forgotten,” she said, put- 
ting down the glass dish, and taking up a little 


AT THE HOSPITAL. 


53 


parcel loosely wrapped in white tissue paper. 
“I guess you’ve had enough jelly now; you 
shall have some more before you settle for the 
night. And I ’ve brought you something else ; 
see, some more of the dear little dandelions 
that reminded you of home. I ’m glad you 
like ’em. I like ’em, too, if they are only 
weeds. They look just like little gold stars . 
shining in the grass.” 

She opened the paper and held out the 
bunch of bright yellow flowers. A curious 
quiver — half pain, half pleasure — crossed the 
boy’s face as he took them in his rough, brown 
hand. 

He looked at them silently for a minute, 
and there were tears in his eyes and his voice 
when he spoke. 

“Yes,” he said; “I like ’em: they make 
me feel sorter good and bad both. The grass 
used to be full of ’em in our yard, too, an’ I 
used to roll about in ’em when I was a little 
chap, an’ pick ’em, an’ curl the stems up in 
ringlets, jes’ like your hair. But that was 
long ago, afore my father died. Them times 
won’t come no more.” 

“Where was your home? Was it all 
broken up when your father died ? Could n’t 
5 * 


64 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


your mother keep it ? ” asked Jessie, in a tone 
full of sympathy. 

“ My mother ! ” said the boy, and the curi- ^ 
ous, bitter look came again. “Oh, yes, I 
’spose she kept it. She didn’t keep me, 
though,” he muttered, in an undertone. 

“I can’t understand,” said Jessie, hastily. 
“I can’t understand how you can speak so 
about your mother. I thought mothers were 
the very dearest things in the world to chil- 
dren. Mine is, I know, to me ! ” 

The boy eyed her with a kind of grim 
smile. 

“ Does your mother beat you ? ” he asked, 
in a curious, meaning tone. 

Jessie’s fair face flushed pink all over. 

“Beat me?” she repeated, indignantly. 
“You should know better than to ask such 
a question. I hope I know how to behave 
myself without that.” Then dropping her 
tone a little, “ perhaps she had to punish me 
that way once or twice when I was little ; 
but not now, nor for a long, long time. No, 
indeed ! I think anybody ought to be 
ashamed that needs to be whipped when 
they ’re eleven years old.” 

“ S’posin’ they don’t need it ? an’ s’posin’ 


AT THE HOSPITAL. 55 

they gits it all the same?” said the boy. 
“I got it every day, an’ twict a day, pretty 
gen’rally — after my father died. An’ no 
foolin,’ either ; well laid on with a strap. 
That was the way my mother showed how 
she loved me.” 

Jessie looked distressed. 

“Oh, don’t speak that bitter way,” she 
said. “ W as your mother such a real cruel 
woman? I can’t bear to think so about 
mothers ! ” 

The boy looked at her with a somewhat 
altered expression. He did not answer at 
once, and seemed to be thinking. Presently 
he said, doggedly, “ I dunno ; I never thought 
much about it. All I know is, she made it 
too rough for me, an’ I dug out an’ left her. 
She hain’t had a chance to bang away on me 
now these two year an’ more.” 

“ What ? you ran away from home ? ” 

Jessie could scarcely get the words out for 
horror. 

“ Jes’ so,” said the boy. “ ’T warn’t no home 
for me no longer.” 

“ Oh, but you ought to have stayed in it all 
the same, and tried to have made it better,” 
said Jessie, in grave rebuke. “ God gives us 


56 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


to our fathers and mothers, and we ought not 
to run away from them, I ’m sure of that, 
unless we really cannot bear it. I ’m afraid 
you must have been a naughty boy, to have 
made your mother so hard. Think, now; 
were n’t you pretty bad your ownself ? ” 

She spoke so innocently, so earnestly, that 
the little gamin found himself answering her 
in the same way, instead of growing sulky and 
silent. 

“ I dunno,” he said. “ I s’pose I was ; all 
boys are bad, I guess. But bangin’ on ’em all 
the time don’t make ’em no better. My father 
did n’t do it ; he ’d been a boy hisself, an’ he 
know’d how it was. But, mother, she was 
allers afeard I was goin’ to do somethin’ dread- 
ful, an’ she thought, when father was gone, she 
must git a tight grip ahold o’ me, an’ never 
let go. An’ she made me work awful hard, 
an’ never let me out for a bit o’ fun ; an’ if I 
stoled out for a game o’ shinny, or a bit of a 
swim in the river, or a snow-ballin’, or any- 
thin’, I was bound to get paid off for it when 
I come in. An’ I must n’t never have a penny, 
not o’ what I earnt myself. I ’d ‘ only spend it 
for foolishness,’ she said. An’ she told the 
school-marm to be strict with me ; an’ she beat 


AT THE HOSPITAL. 


57 


me, too ; an’ it was a dog’s life, an’ not a boy’s, 
I led. I was n’t goin’ to stay to be pounded 
by a couple o’ women ; so one fine day I jes’ 
dug out, an’ come to tbe city to be my own 
man, an’ here I ’ve been ever since ! ” 

“And doesn’t your mother know where 
you are, or anything ? Oh, oh, you naughty 
boy!” cried Jessie, looking at him with a 
severe rebuke in her clear young eyes. 

“She wouldn’t break her heart. She’d 
think it was a good riddance o’ bad rubbish,” 
said the boy, sullenly. 

“ I don’t believe she would at all,” said Jes- 
sie. “ It don’t seem to me as if she was a bad 
woman. Only your father was dead, and you 
had n’t anybody but hei* to look after you, and 
she was afraid you ’d grow up wicked, like so 
many boys. That made her so strict, and I 
s’pose it was a pretty hard life for you, poor 
fellow. Your mother ought to have known 
the best way was to make you love her, and 
make your home pleasant, so you ’d like to 
stay in it. But I do believe some people don’t 
know, really. I’m glad my mother does! 
Why, she makes our home just the sweetest 
spot in the whole world to us ! ” 

Jessie stopped, out of breath with her long, 


58 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


eager speech, and the boy gazed moodily at 
the sweet face, which the thought of the dear 
mother and home had lit up with a flush of 
happy color. 

“ Oh, yah,” he said ; “ it is well seen how 
you can talk about the mother-love. But as 
for me — ” 

He stopped abruptly, and his face worked 
strangely. He tried to turn his head away, 
but the sudden motion wrenched his injured 
arm, and he uttered a groan, full of anguish, 
both of body and spirit. 

Jessie sprang to her feet alarmed, and pro- 
voked with herself. 

“ Oh, I have excited you,” she said, much 
distressed. “ I have made you talk too much, 
and now you have hurt yourself. Do, pray, 
forgive me, and let me do something ! What 
can I do? Will you have a drink? or here, 
take just a little more jelly — it will freshen 
your mouth. Oh, I ’m so sorry ! ” 

“It’s no matter; it’s gone now,” said 
the boy, hoarsely; “an’ you mustn’t blame 
yourself. It ’s done me good to hear ye talk.” 
He opened his mouth to take the jelly which 
she held to his lips, but it was with an effort, 
and he looked frightfully pale. Jessie was glad 


AT THE HOSPITAL. 


59 


when just then the matron came bustling back. 
She shook her head when she saw the ashy 
face, and the stain of tears about the dark, 
sunken eyes. 

“You have stayed long enough now, I 
think. Miss,” she said. “ He ’s very weak yet, 
and he must n’t do too much, or we ’ll have the 
fever back, and that would be too bad. Come, 
Johnny, thank the young lady, now, and say 
good-by, and perhaps — ” 

“ I wish you would n’t call me Johnny ! ” 
said the boy, in an angry whisper. “My 
name is — never mind, though, what it is. 
Anything’s good enough for me, I s’pose! 
But I won’t say good-by, without she ’ll prom- 
ise to come agin ! ” 

“ I will, if I may. Oh, yes, indeed,” said 
Jessie, earnestly. “I am so sorry for you, 
every way, poor boy ! ” She leaned over him, 
and bent a look full of most pitying sympathy 
upon the dark, pain-drawn face. 

“But I know I ought to go now, and let 
you rest. I will bring you some custard when 
I come again — that is so nourishing ; and it ’s 
nice, too. And I shall have some lilies of the 
valley out soon, and’ they smell so lovely ! 


60 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


Good-by now ; try to go to sleep, and you ’ll 
feel better to-morrow.” 

She bent a little nearer, and whispered, 
“I shall beg God, when I say my prayers 
every day, to make you feel better every 
way ; and you must pray to Him for your- 
self. He will hear you. He does love you, 
poor boy, only believe it ! ” she said, in the 
sweetest, tenderest tone, and then she turned 
quickly away, and walked softly but swiftly 
down the long room to the door. 

One pale, haggard face after another sent 
wistful looks after the childish figure as it 
glided lightly past the rows of cots, and the 
glimpse of the sweet young face made a bit 
of pleasantness to more than one pair of tired 
eyes ; but Jessie was not thinking of herself, 
and scarcely of the other sufferers in the ward. 
Her heart and thoughts were all full of her 
interest in the poor little newsboy, who must 
be a cripple all the rest of his life, who had 
no home, and no one belonging to him, but a 
mother who he thought did not love him, and 
from whom he had run away I 


CHAPTER V. 

TWILIGHT TALK. 

B ut, somehow, I can’t help believing she 
does love him, mother. How can mothers 
help loving their own children when God 
gives them ? And somewhere or other she ’s 
grieving her heart out about him, and lying 
awake nights, wondering where her boy is 
now I Don’t you think so, too, mamma?” 

Jessie had got home again, and had her 
supper, and sung Roddy to sleep, while her 
mother put away the tea-things. Now they 
were sitting together, by the open parlor- win- 
dow, in the soft spring evening, just as Jessie 
loved to sit, on a low seat at her mother’s 
knee, with the dear hand held close in both 
of hers, and her eyes uplifted to the dear face, 
while she poured out eagerly the story of her 
afternoon by the sick boy’s side. 

“ Say, mamma, don’t you think his mother 
loves him still ? and don’t you wish we could 
help them somehow to get together again ? ” 
6 61 


62 THE FEOWER-MISSION. 

repeated she, as her mother sat musing si- 
lently. 

“ Why, it seems a dreadful thing to me for 
a mother not to know where her own child 
is, and for hini not to care about seeing her, 
when he ’s so ill ! Why, mamma, only 
think ! if it were Koddy, or me, lying there, 
in a hospital, with a leg cut off and an arm 
broken, and you not even knowing where 
we were, and we thinking you didn’t care 
a thing for us! Only just think of that, 
mamma! ” 

The sweet child- voice broke in a half-sob, 
and her mother put her arms round the little 
figure and drew it close to her own breast. 

“ My darling ! ” she said, “ you must not 
think of such a thing. It is not possible ! 
As if anything could ever come between my 
heart and my children’s — my good, precious 
children ! ” 

She laid her cheek close to her little 
daughter’s, and they were silent for awhile. 
Then she spoke again. 

“But, unhappily, my dear, there is not 
always the feeling that there ought to be 
even between mothers and their children. 
The wrong is generally on both sides. The 


TWILIGHT TALK. 


63 


parents think of their children only as creat- 
ures belonging to them, to be made to do 
exactly as they choose, without consulting 
the wishes of the child in the least, and to 
be punished into submission if they rebel. 
The children see that there is no sympathy 
or consideration for their little fancies or feel- 
ings, and the mere giving of food and clothes 
does not win love in return. The family lives 
on from day to day without any bond of real 
affection ; the children show their wilfulness 
and independence more and more openly as 
they grow older and less afraid of punish- 
ment. They think of home not as a little 
heaven on earth, — ” 

“As ours is!” Jessie broke in, squeezing 
her mother’s hand, — 

“ But as a place to escape from as soon as 
possible ; and they do escape from it as soon 
as they can. The daughters marry, often 
unwisely, thinking, ‘Oh, anything is better 
than to stay at home and be treated as chil- 
dren all our lives I ’ And the sons take their 
lives in their own hands, and go to the ends of 
the earth, seeking their fortune. The worst 
of it is that they take with them nothing of 
the sweet home-feeling, as a safeguard against 


64 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


temptation, or a comfort in the midst of toils 
and trials ; and they leave no such feeling be- 
hind in the empty house where the parents sit 
alone, and wonder that children have so little 
of love or gratitude to those who gave them 
life. They never think how little they have 
done to make that life happy ! ” 

Jessie looked silently and wonderingly up 
into her mother’s face. Mrs. Lang seemed to 
be talking to herself rather than to her little 
daughter. 

“ But you are not like that, mamma darl- 
ing,” the child ventured to say, gently. “ Y ou 
do everything that you think is right to make 
Eoddy and me happy ! ” 

“ Then, on the other hand,” Mrs. Lang went 
on, as if she were thinking aloud, “ there are 
some children who seem naturally so selfish, 
so wilful, so ungrateful, that not all the love 
and kindness of the wisest and tenderest of 
parents can keep them from evil, or make 
them do their part towards making home 
happy. In spite of the most loving, most 
careful, and prayerful training, they go on, 
yielding to their own sinful impulses, and 
grow up hard and cold and selfish, or per- 
haps openly wicked, and end by breaking the 


TWILIGHT TALK. 


65 


hearts which have always been so full of love 
and care for them ! ” 

“But, mamma, that won’t be Koddy nor 
me,” interposed Jessie, passionately, twining 
her arms tightly around her mother’s neck. 
“We ’ll love you and mind you all our lives ; 
we ’ll never break your heart ; no, no, mam- 
ma ! ” 

Mrs. Lang started, in a little surprise. She 
had been thinking out her own thoughts 
aloud on a subject which very often filled her 
mind. As a teacher, she had had constant 
opportunity to discover what great and sad 
mistakes are made in the home-training of 
children; and it grieved her to think how 
much of happiness in this life and the next 
is missed by just such mistakes! She had 
gone on uttering her thoughts aloud, not re- 
membering that they were rather too deep 
and solemn for her little daughter. Now, as 
she felt the quiver of emotion run through 
the childish frame, she reproached herself, 
and made haste to speak with cheery tender- 
ness. 

“ I know that very well, my darling,” she 
said, smoothing the brown hair fondly. “ Don ’t 
think I have any fear about my own dear 
6* E 


66 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


little children. Thank God, we love each 
other, and we love Him ; and home seems 
like heaven, and heaven like home to us. I 
thank and bless Him from my very soul that 
it is so. I only wish I might know it to be 
the same with every household all the world 
over; then this earth would be a different 
place, and the millennium would come indeed ! 
And it seems strange enough his precepts are 
not obeyed: ‘Children, obey your parents in 
the Lord : for this is right. . . . And, ye fathers, 
provoke not your children to wrath; but 
bring them up in the nurture and admoni- 
tion of the Lord.’ Those are sure receipts 
for happiness in a family, little daughter, and 
it is the many families which make up the 
world, you know! 

“ I ’m afraid they have n’t used those in 
your poor little newsboy’s home. What is 
he, by the way, an Irish boy, or a New 
Yorker, or perhaps a little Deutscher ? ” 

“ I don’t know, mamma,” said Jessie, lift- 
ing her head, and feeling rather glad that 
they were coming back from general subjects 
to the particular case she was interested in. 

“ I did n’t think about it. Y ou could n’t tell 
much from his looks, he was so pale, and the 


TWILIGHT TALK. 


67 


pain drew his face so. He talked jnst as 
all .the little street boys talk who come to 
shovel snow or put in wood; dreadful bad 
grammar, of course ! But, mamma, somehow 
I don’t believe he ’s just only a clod of a boy, 
you know ; somehow, it seemed to me as if 
he felt things — in his heart, I mean. You 
ought to have seen how he kept that bunch 
of dandelions tight in his hand, and how he 
looked at it every little while, with such a 
deep sort of look, sort of angry and sort of 
sad, and yet sort of loving, too — ” 

“Oh, oh, oh, Jessie ! ” protested her mother, 
in strong disapproval. “ What sort of talking 
are you doing, now, I should like to ask ? ” 
Jessie colored, and said, hastily,- — 

“ I know, mamma, that it is n’t elegant at 
all to say ‘sort o” and ‘kind o’;’ but, oh, they 
are so convenient sometimes ! But I ’ll try to 
remember not to use them again ! 

“ And, mamma, you don’t mind my being 
so interested in my little dandelion-boy, do 
you ? I do want to get him to let me write, 
a letter to his mother, and tell her where he 
is. I can’t help believing, that if they could 
see each other now, it would be all right 


68 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


again, and they ’d both be so happy they ’d 
never have trouble any more I ” 

Mrs. Lang smiled, and patted Jessie’s eager 
face. 

“You believe in mother-love, don’t you, 
daughter ? ’’ she said. “ I think you are 
right, too, and that no matter how coarse or 
hard the woman may be, her heart could not 
help softening to her child when she sees 
what a pitiful state he is in. But the diffi- 
culty, as it seems to me, will be in finding 
her out after all this time. That kind of per- 
son does n’t generally live long in one place.” 

“ Oh, but, mamma,” Jessie answered, eagerly, 
“ they did n’t live in the city, you know, where 
they ’re always moving. He said his home 
was in the country, and they had ground 
around it, — grass, you know, where the dande- 
lions grow I I guess it was their own little 
cottage ; and if it was, why, then, his mother 
will probably be living there still ; don’t you 
see ? And so a letter could get to her easily 
enough I ” 

“Yes, it may be so,” said Mrs. Lang. “I 
hope it will be so, for your sake, as well as 
for the boy’s and his mother’s. And I hope, 
if your kind little plan is successful, and they 


TWILIGHT TALK. 


69 


ever do come together again, they will each 
have learned a lesson which will make them 
live in a better and happier way. The boy 
has certainly been sorely punished already, 
and I have no doubt the mother’s heart is 
sore enough, too, when she thinks 'it was her 
severity that drove him from his home — that 
is, unless she is an altogether bad woman, 
which we will hope she is not.” 

“I don’t believe she is,” said Jessie, de- 
cidedly ; “ and I believe she ’s somewhere 
now, longing for him, and will be glad to get 
him back to her again ! And I know he is 
hungry enough to see her, for all he tries to 
be so spunky. Excuse me, mamma ! That ’s 
another word you don’t like. I hope, when 
I ’m a lady like you, I ’ll remember always 
to express myself as nicely as you do ! ”• 

“Better begin remembering now, then,” 
said Mrs. Lang, gravely. 

“ So I will try, mamma dear ! And I shall 
talk to him, mamma, very seriously, when I 
go to see him again — that is, if he’s well 
enough ! He begged me to come and see 
him again, and the matron said I might. 
You don’t mind, do you? ” 

“ Ho, I don’t mind. I should be very glad, 


70 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


indeed, if yon might be able to do the poor 
boy any good. But yon mnst be carefnl not 
to excite him, and yon mnst try and show 
him who can help him when he cannot help 
himself. 

“ And, now, do yon know we have sat here 
talking till it is nine o’clock, and sleepy time 
for even snch wise little women as yon? 
Snppose we sing some hymns together now 
for Snnday evening, and then yon mnst go to 
bed. Kemember, to-morrow is Monday.” 

So they sang Jessie’s favorite, “Softly 
now the light of day,” and her mother’s, 
“ While thee I seek, protecting Power ; ” and 
then Jessie kissed her mother good-night, 
and went into her own little room. She did 
not forget to “ beg God,” as she had promised, 
for her poor little “dandelion-boy,” when 
she knelt to say her evening prayer. Her 
heart was full of interest and sympathy for 
him, wilful and “ spnnky ” little waif as he 
was ; and even after she was asleep, vague 
thoughts that had more or less connection 
with him, flitted in and out of her childish 
dreams. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 

W EDNESDAY was visitors’ day at the 
hospital,” the matron had told Jessie; 
and on Wednesday morning Jessie rose a 
whole hour earlier than usual, so that she 
might prepare, with her own hands, the dish 
of custard she had promised to take “her 
boy” 

Though Jessie was not yet twelve years old, 
she had learned already to be quite a “ respect- 
able little cook,” as her mother admitted. The 
little “ flat ” kitchen was so clean and bright, 
with its well-blacked range, its polished copper 
boiler, and rows of shining tins upon the wall, 
that it was a pleasure to work in it. Mrs. 
Lang had hung a short, full, white curtain, 
made of one of Jessie’s old white frocks, at 
the window; the plants grew greener and 
leafier there than anywhere else, and Cherry 
showed that it was his favorite spot for his 
cage, by singing louder and mere merrily there 

71 


72 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


than anywhere else. There was never any- 
thing untidy or unpleasant to be seen there *. 
the ashes were sent down the “ ash-shoot ” as 
soon as taken up ; the “ scraps ” of food that 
were yet fit to be eaten were carefully placed 
in a basket, and taken down to the closet 
under the stoop, where a poor little beggar- 
girl, whose father was a drunkard and whose 
mother was blind, was glad to come every day 
and get them. Everything that could not be 
used again was put into the hottest part of 
the range, where it was burned up at once, 
and made no smell ; and thus, with the exer- 
cise of a little care, which habit soon made 
easy and natural, all disagreeable sights and 
odors were kept away, except for brief periods ; 
and, as I said before, Mrs. Lang’s little kitchen 
was one of the pleasantest and prettiest rooms 
in the house. 

This being the case, and she having to be 
there more or less of the time, of course the 
children were there too ; and Jessie had learned 
a good deal by watching her mother when she 
was preparing their meals. Like all other 
little folks, she was always asking questions, 
and wanting to be allowed to “try;” and 
though it would have generally been easier 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 73 

for her mother to do things herself, she was 
never impatient with her, and never ordered 
her out of the way — partly because she 
remembered herself — as what woman does 
not ? — how delightful it was to be allowed to 
stay in the kitchen on “ baking-days,” when 
she herself was a child, and “mother’s things” 
smelled so much sweeter, and tasted so much 
nicer, than any others have ever done since, 
— partly because she knew what discomfort 
there generally is in a family where the mis- 
tress does not know how to do anything her- 
self, and everything is left to the cook ; and 
she wished her little girl to grow up a fully- 
educated woman, “ thoroughly furnished unto 
all good works.” (2 Tim. iii. 17.) 

So she took on an extra stock of patience 
when Jessie was in the kitchen at cooking- 
time, and answered her questions, and let her 
“try;” and, as she grew older, left certain 
dishes for her to prepare with her own little 
hands, standing beside her and showing her 
carefully exactly the way in which each thing 
was to be done. 

It was a great deal more trouble than to 
have done it herself ; but now she was begin- 
ning to reap her reward. Jessie could make 
7 


74 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


as good a cup of coffee or tea as her mother 
herself ; she could prepare and cook vegeta- 
bles very nicely ; could roast a joint, and make 
a nice brown gravy. Her great ambition was 
to learn how to broil a steak, and to make 
pastry ; but her mother thought they required 
rather too much skill for her just yet. She 
could not knead bread, either, though she 
knew how it was mixed ; but she could make 
“ lovely light biscuit,” and nice, plain cake ; 
and could boil the oat- meal or hominy for 
breakfast as well as her mother herself. Many 
a time, when Mrs. Lang came home tired out, 
or with one of her sick-headaches, after a long 
day’s work in the school-room, Jessie relieved 
her entirely of the care of the meals; and 
each day she took some portion of them as 
her own special work. 

The last achievement had been the making 
of custards for their Sunday dinner ; and they 
had proved to be so nice, that she felt quite 
a great pride in her performance. She only 
hoped that these she was now making for 
the sick boy would turn out as well, and went 
about their preparation with a gravity and 
carefulness which showed of how much im- 
portance she considered the matter. 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 76 

It was quite a pleasure to watch the child’s 
neat and dexterous ways — how deftly she 
broke the eggs, laying the shells aside for the 
clearing of coffee ; how briskly she beat them 
and stirred in the sugar ; how anxiously she 
watched the delicate process of boiling the 
milk, stirring it all the time, lest it should 
curdle the least little bit. 

There was a very decided scarlet flush on 
her fair round face, and just a suspicion of 
smut on her plump forefinger, when she pres- 
ently lifted off the saucepan, and poured out 
the rich, creamy- looking liquid into a dish to 
cool. But Jessie didn’t mind that; a little 
fresh water would soon put both to rights, 
and, meanwhile, her custard was perfect. 

“ There, mamma, does n’t it look delicious? ” 
she asked, triumphantly, as her mother came 
in, followed by Koddy, his rosy cheeks shin- 
ing from their recent bath. 

“Yes, it do look d’lissus; an’ Koddy want 
some 3dte away for his b’ekfus ! ” said the lit- 
tle fellow, eagerly ; and Jessie laughed, as she 
kissed him good-morning. 

“Not for his b’ekfus; it’s too hot,” said 
she, moving the dish out of his reach. “ Koddy 
shall have nice hominy and milk for his break- 


76 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


fast, now, in a minute; and this afternoon, 
when we come home, Eoddy shall have a 
whole cupful of custard. It’ll be nice and 
cool then, but now it would burn Eoddy’s 
dear little mouth ! ” 

“Eoddy no want his dear ittle mouf 
burned ! ” said the child, hastily putting his 
hand up before it; and Jessie laughed again, 
and gave him the milk-pitcher to take into 
the dining-room. He dearly liked to play 
“pretty waiter-boy,” and, little fellow as he 
was, saved his mother and sister a good many 
steps. 

“ I think he ’ll enjoy it ; don’t you, mam- 
ma?” Jessie asked, as her mother cooled a 
little in a spoon, and tasted it critically. 
“ It ’s flavored all right, is n’t it ? ” 

“ ‘ He ’ meaning your dandelion-boy, I sup- 
pose,” said her mother, smiling at her little 
girl’s anxious look. 

“ W ell, yes, I think it will be strange if he 
does n’t. I am quite sure I shall, for it is very 
nice, indeed. What a clever little daughter 
I have, to be sure ! ” 

“ Oh, I ’m so glad, mamma ! ” said Jessie, 
brightening with pleasure at the success of her 
“ labor of love.” “ I ’ll set it into the refrig- 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 77 

erator wlien I go to school, and it will be all 
ready to take up when I come home. 

“ And now we can have breakfast right 
away, if you ’ll cut the bread ; for I put on 
the coffee and the hominy the same time as I 
did the custard, and they are all ready to 
come in.” 

The thought of the little treat she had pre- 
pared for them all, and especially for her poor 
patient, gave a flavor of enjoyment to Jessie’s 
simple meal, and kept her even more sweet 
and cheerful than usual all through the duties 
of the hours at school. 

Jessie didn’t know what a sunshiny look 
she carried about with her all day ; but at re- 
cess, as she happened to pass the desk where 
two of the teachers sat chatting together over 
their lunch, one of them said to the other, — 

“ What a thoroughly nice child that little 
Jessie Lang is I Always so trim and tidy, with 
such a happy look and such pleasant manners, 
and always up to the mark in her lessons. 
I shall be glad when she is promoted into my 
class ! ” 

“Well brought up at home, you see,” re- 
plied her companion ; “ and that ’s what two- 
thirds of’ the. children nowadays are not. 

7 * . ' 


78 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


If they were, school- teaching would be a pleas- 
ure, instead of the drudgery it so often is.” 

When she was ready to go home, half a 
dozen girls of her class, who lived in her 
neighborhood, were waiting, just for the pleas- 
ure of walking home in her cheery company ; 
and Jessie enjoyed it, and came merrily along, 
laughing and talking, feeling happy and lov- 
ing, she hardly knew why; and never sus- 
pecting that it was the influence of her own 
sunny temper that kept the whole party in 
such gay, good-humor. 

They did not separate till they reaehed her 
own door, for, as she was going up to the hos- 
pital at once, Koddy was to stay at Mrs. Yogt’s 
till his mother called for him. She did not go 
up-stairs immediately, but ran in through the 
basement hall, and out of the back door into 
the yard. She wanted to see if the bright 
spring sunshine had coaxed out her favorite 
clove-pinks, so that she might keep her promise 
of taking “her boy” a nosegay that would 
keep a sweet smell near his bed. 

“ There was such a horrid odor of opium 
and chloroform, and all sorts of dreadful sick 
things ! ” Jessie said to herself, with a little 
face of disgust. “ I know he can’t help liking 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 79 

my pinks, even if he don’t know much about 
fine flowers. They are fine flowers, I know, 
with their leaves like velvet, and their lovely 
perfume ; but, then, they don’t put on any 
airs, like the new-fangled flowers, with their 
grand Latin names, and maybe no scent at 
all ! They belong to the real old-fashioned 
gentry, I think, and I only hope they ’ve con- 
descended to come out this fine day ! ” 

You see Jessie was so fond of her few treas- 
ures of flowers in her poor bit of a back-yard 
border, that she talked to them and about them 
just as if they were real human beings. And 
they repaid her love by thriving in the most 
unusual manner. 

It was early yet for pinks, but I suppose 
they did not like to disappoint her ; for when 
she ran up to her side of the yard, there they 
were, sure enough, three full-blown blossoms, 
full of color and fragrance, blooming away in 
the sunny corner of the fence. 

“ Oh, you little darlings ! ” Jessie cried, rap- 
turously, springing towards them, and stoop- 
ing to inhale their warm, spicy perfume. 

“ I thought you would n’t fail me. And now 
I shall gather you right away, and take you 
with me to try and comfort a poor little, sick. 


80 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


lonesome boy. I know you ’d rather be there, 
cheering him up, and resting his poor, tired 
eyes, than staying here, doing nobody much 
good, even if you might live a little longer 
by it. So come right along, you pretty little 
dears, and we ’ll start straight off, before he 
gets worn out with waiting for us ! ” 

The pretty pinks did not make any answer, 
but we ’ll take it for granted they were will- 
ing to do their share of good in the world ; for 
they did not smell any the less sweet after they 
were plucked, sprinkled with fresh water, and 
placed with a few rose-geranium leaves be- 
tween layers of damp cotton. 

The custard was delicious, too, after having 
stood all day upon a great lump of ice in the 
refrigerator; and Jessie poured as much of it 
as she thought “ her boy ” could possibly eat 
into a little china porringer which had a cover, 
so that there would be no danger of its spill- 
ing. This she set into a little, round basket, 
filling up the space snugly with wet cotton ; 
she put in also a slender glass vase, which was 
one of her own small treasures. ‘‘ The pinks 
will look lovely in that ! ” she thought ; and 
last of all she laid in the precious pinks them- 
selves. 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 81 

Then, everything being ready, she started 
off with a light step and a lighter heart. It 
was so pleasant to think that she — just little 
Jessie Lang — could really be able to do some- 
thing for somebody besides just the daily du- 
ties that everybody had to perform ! 

It was visitors’ day at the hospital, and the 
ladies of the Flower- Mission had been there, 
and left behind them some sweet tokens. The 
windows were open to let in the soft afternoon 
air; the long rows of cots were white and 
spotless, and everything looked as clean and 
comfortable as it could in such a sad, unhome- 
like place of suffering. 

There were a few people sitting about, here 
and there, mostly poor, sorrowful -looking men 
and women, who had come to visit one or an- 
other relative or friend among the patients ; 
and their voices made a low monotone of talk 
throughout the great, bare room. There was 
no one, however, near the “dandelion-boy’s” 
cot ; he lay stretched upon it, with his rough 
hair tumbling over the pillow, and his hollow 
eyes turned wearily towards the door-way. 
They fell on Jessie’s trim little figure the 
moment she entered, and brightened at once 
with a look of eager pleasure. 

F 


82 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


“So, you did come agen,” he said, as she 
approached lightly and stood by his bed-side. 
“ I did n’t know but such a fine lady as you 
might ha’ forgot such as me by this time.” 

He spoke gruffly, trying to hide the delight 
of which, in his rude bashfulness, he was half 
ashamed. 

“ What a naughty boy, to say what you 
don’t mean ! ” replied Jessie, pretending to 
frown. “ Y ou did know very well that I had not 
forgotten you, and would come when I could. 
Did you think about me ? Did the time seem 
long, poor boy ? ” 

“ I hain’t got nothin’ else pleasant to think 
of,” said the boy, in his old bitter tone. “An’ 
I ’ve been a watchin’ the door all day to see 
you come in. Never mind ; you ’re here 
now, an’ it does my eyes good to look at you. 
They get so tired o’ everything here.” 

“ Poor fellow ! ” said Jessie, pityingly. “ I 
know the time must go by slowly enough. 
But for all that, do you know it does my eyes 
good to look at you, too ? For you ’re so 
much better. I can see it in your face ; you ’ ve 
a so much better color, and not a bit of fever 
left!” 

She laid her hand lightly upon his forehead. 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 83 


“It’s as cool as mine,” slie said, triumph- 
antly ; “ you certainly are a great deal better, 
and you need n’t say you ’re not ! ” 

A smile flashed across the boy’s face, which 
he tried at once to hide. 

“ I suppose it would n’t be perlite to con- 
terdick you,” he said. 

“No, of course it wouldn’t,” said Jessie, 
promptly ; “ and if you did, I should punish you 
by not giving you any of the nice things I have 
brought you. But perhaps you don’t want 
them. What have you had to eat to-day ? ” 
The boy made a grimace. “ Some sort o’ 
slops — beef- tea, I b’lieve they call it. I ’m 
gettin’ hungry as a wolf. I want some meat 
an’ taters. Why can’t they give ’em to me ? ” 
“ Because they have n’t quite lost their 
senses, to be sure,” said Jessie. “The idea 
of any one just coming out of such a fever 
as you have had, eating such hearty food! 
Why, it would throw you right back, and 
make you worse than before, maybe. No, in- 
deed ; beef- tea is the right thing for you, sir, 
and you ought to be very grateful to the kind 
people here who take the trouble to make it 
for you, and not be such a grumbler. Do you 
know that, Mr. Bad Boy ? ” 


84 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


The boy turned himself a little so as to 
look his visitor square in the face. He did 
not know what to make of such severe words 
coming from such a quarter. 

He saw a fair little face trying very hard 
to look stern and rebuking, but he saw also 
a twinkle of fan in the merry blue eyes, and 
his own caught and gave back the sparkle. 

“ Yes’m, I s’pose I ought to know it,” he 
said, in a tone of pretended humility. “I 
won’t grumble no more, ma’am, no matter 
what sort o’ baby vittles they gi’ me ; no, not 
if they feeds me wi’ milk outer a bottle.” 

Jessie laughed outright. The sick people 
started in their beds at the sound of that clear, 
happy laughter ringing through the great 
room, which was more accustomed to echo 
sighs and groans ; but it did them good, and 
coaxed a faint answering smile to more than 
one dull, pale face. But a nurse, who was 
busy with a patient a little way off, came up 
with a warning look. 

“ You mustn’t excite the patient, you know, 
Miss,” she said. 

Jessie’s fair round face colored like one of 
her own pinks. 

“Do excuse me,” she said, in great confu- 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 85 

sion. “ I might have known I ought not to 
laugh here. I ’m afraid I ’m a very poor sort 
of a nurse.” 

“No, you ain’t, nuther,” said the hoy, 
stoutly; “you’re just the right sort, an’ 
you ’re a helpin’ me to get well. Laughin’ 
does a heap more good to sick folks than 
groanin’.” 

It was the nurse’s turn to smile now. “ I 
guess you are getting better, my boy,” she 
said. “ You ’re a queer Dick, anyhow.” 

“ There, now ! ” said the boy, in an aggrieved 
tone, as she turned away. “ There she goes, 
a callin’ me outer my name. Who told her 
my name was Dick ? ” 

“ Well, what is your name, anyhow? ” asked 
Jessie, catching at this chance to make him 
speak of himself. “ I meant to ask you, be- 
cause it ’s so awkward not to know what to 
call you, and to have to think of you and talk 
about you just as ‘ the boy ! ’ ” 

The same shy smile came again across his 
face, and again he tried to hide it. 

“ As if you took the trouble to talk about 
me,” he said. 

“ Of course I talk about you, and a great 
deal, too, to my mother,” rejoined Jessie. 

8 


86 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


“ She knows all about you that I do, and she ’s 
just as sorry for you, and as anxious that you 
might get well, yes, and be happy, too, once 
more. But we both think — ” 

She stopped here abruptly, and the boy 
said, fixing his eyes upon her, — 

“ W ell ; both think — what ? ” 

“ Never mind ; not just now, at least,” said 
Jessie, beginning to take the cover off her 
basket. “ I don’t know what I ’ve been think- 
ing about to forget this all this while. The 
custard won’t be cool a bit, and my pretty 
pinks will be all wilted. But tell me your 
name first, or I sha’n’t let you have any, after 
all ! ” 

“My name is Paul — Paul Francis,” said 
the boy; “but the fellers down on the street 
call me Pollywog, mostly,” he added, with a 
grin. 

“ Oh, what a shame ! ” cried Jessie, indig- 
nantly ; “ when you ’ve got such a nice name, 
too. I would n’t let ’em, if I were you, Paul. 
But see, now, is n’t this nice, too, for a boy 
with a nice name, who is going to behave 
himself nicely after this? I made this for 
you, my ownself, this morning.” 

She took out the little china porringer, 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 87 

and, laying aside the cover, held it out, with 
its tempting straw-colored contents, before the 
boy’s eager eyes. 

“ Ah-h ! that does look good though, don’t 
it ? ” he said, drawing a long breath of ex- 
pectation. “ An’, oh, what an awful nice smell 
it ’s got to it ! ” 

Jessie laughed again, this time half under 
her breath. 

“You goose, you! ’’she said, unwrapping 
the cotton which had kept her flowers all 
fresh and moist ; “ it is n’t that you smell, but 
these 1 ” and she held the little bunch of fra- 
grant blossoms close to his nose. 

“ A-h-h 1 ” said the boy, again drawing in a 
long breath of the spicy perfume with eager 
pleasure. “ How sweet them is I an’ what a 
purty color,” and then he buried his nose 
again in the velvety leaves. 

Jessie felt quite repaid for giving them up. 

“ I ’m so glad you like them,” she said. “ I 
gathered them for you out of my own little 
garden. I do think it is so good in God to 
make flowers grow so lovely, just for our 
pleasure. I only wish we could do something 
just to show Him how much we thank Him ; 
don’t you ? ” 


88 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


The boy started at the sudden question, and 
glanced up with an odd look into the eager, 
innocent face. He made no answer, however ; 
he had never thought of it in that light be- 
fore. 

“And now we’ll put them in this little 
vase, before you smell them all to pieces,” Jes- 
sie went on gayly, setting out the pretty glass 
vase. “ I brought that to stand on this little 
table beside your bed, and I ’ll try and keep 
it filled with flowers as long as you ’re sick. 
But you must n’t talk another bit until you 
have tasted some of my custard. Open your 
mouth now and eat. If I make you tired, 
they ’ll never let me come to see you again.” 

He did as he was bid, and opened his 
mouth, like a child, to receive the dainty 
spoonful she held out to him. As soon as the 
taste of it gratified his palate, he expressed 
his satisfaction by “ squinching ” up his eyes 
in a comical way, that made Jessie laugh 
again under her breath. 

“You ridiculous boy!” she said; but she 
was pleased for all that, and went on feeding 
him with childish complacency, till she consid- 
ered that he had had as much as was prudent. 

“ There, that ’s enough for this time,” she 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 89 

said; “yoii shall have the rest when I’m 
going away.” 

“ Ah, just one spoonful more ; it ’s so 
good ! ” he begged ; and she shook her head, 
but relented, and gave him the one spoonful 
more. Then she put on the cover of the 
china bowl, and he watched her drawing a 
long breath of satisfaction. 

“ Ah, that was somethin’ like,” he said, 
settling himself back, with a refreshed look, 
on his pillow. “ I never tasted nothin’ better 
than that. An’ to put it in that beautiful dish, 
too, wi’ the bees and the butterflies painted 
just as natural as life on it ; an’ to feed it to 
me your ownself, with a silver spoon. It ’s 
mighty good of you. I dunno why you should 
be so good to such a poor, unlucky scamp as 
me!” 

“ Do you think I am good to you, Paul ? ” 
asked Jessie, softly, looking earnestly at him. 

“You know I do,” said the boy, looking 
back at her in wonder. 

“ Then I wish you would do something for 
me that I want very much, and that I believe 
you want very much, too, if you ’d only let 
yourself think so. I wish you would let 
your mother know where you are, and how 

S* 


90 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


sick you are. I know she would be anxious 
to come to you, and forget all about your — 
your running away. And, anyhow, you ought 
to do it, Paul ; it is your duty, and I want you 
to very, very much ! ” 

Jessie had spoken with all her earnest little 
soul in her face and in her voice ; and the sick 
boy listened to her with a dark and troubled 
look. He did not speak for awhile, and Jes- 
sie pleaded again, “ W on’t you, Paul, do what 
you know is right ? ” 

“ I can’t. I dunno how to let her know,” 
he said at length,, in a sullen tone, and turn- 
ing his face away, as though to show he did 
not wish to say any more about it. 

But Jessie would not be daunted. “ Oh, I 
will write to her for you, Paul,” she said, 
warmly. “I can write very well, mamma 
says ; and I will bring my portfolio right here 
to your side, and you shall tell me just what 
you would like to say. Oh, Paul, I know you 
will feel so much better after it is done ! And 
as for your poor mother — ” Jessie stopped 
abruptly ; such a bitter look crossed the boy’s 
sallow face ! 

“Yes! much she’d care about it!” he 
said, shutting his teeth hard. Then sud- 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPEK. 91 


denly turning his face again towards Jessie, 
and speaking with a great effort at control, he 
said : 

“You don’t know nothin’ about it, Miss, 
you see ; an’ it ’s hard for me to talk about 
it. But I will, ’cause you’re so kind to me, 
an’ ’cause it ’s dreadful good in you to care 
about such as me, or her, either. I ain’t quite 
so bad and hard-hearted as you think I 
am. I did feel sorry about what I done. I 
did think maybe I ought to ha’ stuck it out, 
an’ stayed by my mother, whether or no. I 
made up my mind I ’d try it again, but it 
wa’n’t no go ; it wa’n’t to be ; an’ this time 
it wa’n’t my fault, nuther.” 

“ Do you mean it was your mother who was 
hard-hearted ? ” interrupted Jessie ; “ your 
own mother ? Oh, Paul ! I don’t know how 
to believe it. Tell me, won’t you, just how 
it was, and all about it. Maybe there was 
some mistake, after all.” 

“Not much, there wa’n’t,” said the boy, 
grimly. “ But I ’ll tell you the whole story, 
as you want to know it. It was one day 
I felt awful blue. I dunno what ailed me. 
’T wa’ n’t often I was blue, for I ’d got along 
pretty well after the first. ’T was tough 


92 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


enough at first, as you can guess, for I was 
only a little chap ten years ago, an’ it ’s a big 
city, an’ a bad un ; an’ I had only a precious 
little bit o’ money. I went cold an’ hungry 
a many a time them first few weeks, an’ I 
lived mostly in the streets, pickin’ up odd 
jobs whenever I could, and sleepin’ any- 
where, sometimes in a station-house, some- 
times in a ash-bar’l under a stoop — ” 

“ Oh, Paul ! ” interposed Jessie. “ Y ou fool- 
ish boy ! ” 

“ Yes, an’ sometimes on a bench in some 
o’ the parks, wi’ the sky for a blanket, an’ a 
crust o’ dry bread for all I had to keep me 
warm inside. Yes, it was tough enough; but 
I was tough, too, and it did n’t last that way 
so very long. I come across a jolly sort of 
a chap, one day, when I was ’most ready to 
give up, an’ he saw how peaked I looked, an’ 
what a poor dirty little scarecrow I was get- 
tin’ to be, an’ he gi’ me some o’ his own din- 
ner, a big chunk o’ bread an’ meat, an’ ofiered 
to take me in for a pardner, a sellin’ papers, an’ 
runnin’ errands, an’ doin’ odd jobs gen’rally. 
I asked him what he offered me that for? 
An’ he said because he had a mind to, an’ he 
guessed he had a right to take a fancy to 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 93 

whoever he chosed, au’ for me not to meddle 
with whys nor with wherefores, but to take 
them papers an’ try an’ sell ’em, an’ then 
come an’ meet him at such a place. 

“ So I did n’t meddle no more, an’ I took 
the papers, an’ I started out to try an’ sell 
’em. Well, as things happened, I had jolly 
good luck. Some o’ the other fellows tried to 
jockey me off the track, but I told ’em I was 
Phil Phelan’s pardner, an’ after that they 
did n’t bother me much. You see Phil Phe- 
lan was a kind of a king-pin among the boys ; 
there ’s some fellars that ’s born to be, you 
know, an’ Phil ’s one of ’em. It was a big 
piece o’ luck for me that ever he took a fancy 
to me, for after that I got along fust-rate. 
He took me to the Newsboys’ Lodging-house 
with him that night ; an’, oh, I tell you it was 
good to get a wash once more, an’ a meal o’ 
warm vittles, an’ sleep inside of a real bed ! 
I felt as if I ’d been made over new next 
mornin’, an’ I went out to work with my boss 
as brave as a soldier. I had luck that day, 
too. Phil said I was a smart little chap, an’ 
there was somethin’ in my eyes made the 
folks buy of me. I dunno about that, but I 
was glad I could earn my livin’, an’ Phil was 


94 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


clever to me, an’ for awhile I was happy as a 
lark, bein’ warmed an’ fed, an’ yet feelin’ inde- 
pendent, an’ afraid o’ nobody.” 

“ And yet yon had to mind Phil, did n’t 
yon ? ” asked Jessie, in a jndicial tone. “ I 
shonld rather have minded my own mother.” 

“ Yes ; I had to mind him, sorter, I s’pose ; 
bnt then I knew I need n’t stay with him if 
I did n’t want to, an’ then, besides, he was a 
boy, an’ a mother’s a woman, yon know. 
That ’s what makes the difference to another 
boy, yon see. ’T least, it did to me at first, 
an’ I felt all right for qnite awhile. Then, 
somehow, I begnn to feel qneer. I liked Phil 
as well as ever, an’ I had good Inck a sellin’ 
my papers, bnt somehow or nnther, I begnn 
to feel as if I wanted somethin’ else. I did n’t 
knowedzackly what it was ; an’ Phil he noticed 
I was kind o’ down, an’ he treated to peannts 
two or three times, an’ once he tnk me to the 
theayter, an’ once to a walkin’ show, an’ when 
the circns come, we went there. In the snm- 
mer-time we nsed to have lots o’ fnn a swim- 
min’ at the free baths, an’ Fonrth o’ Jnly we 
’most bnrnt onrselves np wi’ fire-crackers an’ 
things. 

“We had pretty jolly times one way an’ 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 95 

another, though there was a deal o’ hard work, 
too ; but somehow I did n’t feel all right, an’ 
I b’lieve I liked the work better ’n the play, 
’cause it didn’t gi’ me so much chance to 
think. 

“ W ell, I ’m a makin’ a awful long story, 
but that ’s how it was. I wa’n’t contented, 
an’ I wanted somethin’ differ’nt worse an’ 
worse every day. At last I had to own it, 
spite o’ myself, what it was I was a hankerin’ 
after. But I didn’t own it only to myself, 
not to Phil, for I was afeard he would think 
I was a Molly, after all. So I did n’t say not 
a single word to nobody, but one Saturday 
evenin’, instead o’ handin’ my money to Phil 
as usual to put into the bank at the News- 
boys’, I kep’ to myself when I stopped off 
work, an’ went an’ washed myself, an’ put on 
my Sunday best, an’ started off up to the rail- 
road depot, all unbeknownst.” 

“ The railroad depot ! ” interrupted Jessie, 
her eyes growing big. She had never been 
in the “steam-cars” but once in her life, 
and a journey by rail seemed a very grown- 
up affair to her. 

“Yes; but I wa’n’t goin’ very far,” said 
Paul. “ I ’d walked the same distance once, 


96 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


an’ it seemed very long tliei;i, but it did n’t 
seem nothin’ at all now, the way that old in- 
gine snorted along. I could n’t hardly b’lieve 
I was there when she stopped ; but when I 
looked out, night as it was, I saw plain 
enough ’t was the same old place.” 

He stopped abruptly, for there came a sud- 
den catch in his throat, and a strange soft- 
ness dimmed his eyes. 

“It was your old home! You were going 
to see your mother 1 ” exclaimed Jessie, breath- 
lessly. “Oh, Paul! But, there; don’t tell 
me any more about it, if it makes you feel 
so bad, poor boy ! ” 

He straightened himself up, and looked very 
stern and hard, as he began again. 

“ Oh, yes ’m, I ’ll finish as long ’s I ’ve be- 
gun, though it ain’t none o’, the pleasantest 
stories, neither. Well, I see it was the old 
place when the feller hollered out the name, 
an’ I got outen the car, an’ started out across 
the fields. I didn’t go nigh the platform, ’cause 
I did n’t know who might be loafin’ around 
there that I used to know ; an’ I did n’t want 
to see nobody till I ’d seen my mammy.” 

He stopped again, with that queer break in 
his voice, but went on in a moment. 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 97 

“The moon was shinin’ as bright as day; 
out in the fields everything was- still, an’ I 
did n’t see a movin’ creature, only my own 
shadder a follerin’ me as I went hurryin’ 
along. It was so differ’nt from the big, noisy 
city, where you ain’t never still, nor never 
alone, no time o’ the night ; an’ I was goin’ 
on such a queer kind of a errand that I be- 
gun to feel sort o’ skittish an’ strange. I 
hurried along as fast as I could, an’ every 
rock an’ bush an’ tree seemed to. know me, an’ 
be starin’ at me, — the feller that ran away 
from home ! I knew them well enough, for 
I ’d taken our old Bushy out to graze in that 
field ever since I was knee high ; but I did n’t 
stop to look, an’ all of a sudden my heart 
gin a big thump, an’ there right ahead o’ me 
was the brook wi’ the willows where I used 
to fish for minnies, an’ just across the fence, 
alongside the road, was the house where I 
was born, an’ where my mother was sittin’ 
all alone that minnit 1 ” 

“Yes. I can guess just how you felt, 
Paul I ” breathed Jessie, with a sigh of intense 
interest, as the boy stopped again to steady 
his voice. 

“ The moonbeams was a dancin’ bright on 
9 G 


98 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


the water, an’ the leaves seemed a whisperin’ 
to each other as I went by. I scrambled 
over the fence without makin’ any noise, an’ 
slipped across the road, ‘an’ over the palin’ 
into our own yard — the same yard where I 
used to tumble about in the grass with the 
dandylions, like what you fust brought me. 

“ It was just about this time o’ year, just 
about a twelve months ago, and the grass was 
full o’ them then, too, a shinin’ in the green 
like stars that had fell. But I did n’t stop to 
pick none on ’em then. My heart beat so I 
could hardly breathe, an’ my legs were stiff so 
I could only jest move. I was going to see my 
mother agen ! An’ what if she met me with 
a angry face, an’ told me to go, she wanted 
nothin’ to do with me ? 

“ Maybe I deserved it, but it seemed as if 
I couldn’t bear it, an’ just the dread of it 
made me tremble all over. Half I thought 
I ’d turn an’ go back ; but, no, I could n’t give 
it up that way, without tryin’, at least ; an’ so, 
as I had n’t the courage to go up to the door, 
I stole round to the window at the side o’ the 
house, and there I climbed onto a big stove, 
an’ stood like a thief, an’ stole a look into my 
own home.” 


THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPER. 99 

Jessie put out her little gloved hand si- 
lently, and laid it for a moment on the boy’s 
rough, brown one. 

“ I had seen the lamplight a streamin’ out, 
an’ I knew there was somebody sittin’ there. 
I peeped in, expectin’, of course, to see my 
mother ; an’ what did I see ? A lot o’ stran- 
gers. There was a man I ’d never seen before, 
an’ a woman, an’ two girls, an’ a little boy, 
in my mother’s house-place, round a table, 
eatin’ an’ drinkin’, an’ gabbin’ away, an’ never 
a sign of my mother near. An’ indeed there 
would n’t be a sign of her, I knew that well 
enough, amongst such as those! 

“ So there it was, all over ; an’ I ’d had 
my trampins an’ tremblins for nothin’ She 
was gone away, an’ the old place was in other 
folks’ hands, and home would n’t never be 
home to me no more 1 

“ The thought of it went through me sharp 
as a knife. I stood for awhile, an’ stared like, 
an’ presently I got down an’ went stumpin’ 
back across the fields to the station again. 

“It seemed to me as if nothin’ wa’n’t no 
use any more after that, an’ I didn’t care 
much whether I ever got anywhere any 
more ! ” 


CHAPTER VII. 

BALM IN GILEAD. 

B ut, Paul l ” said Jessie, in deep surprise, 
“you did n’t give it up in that way, just 
because you did n’t see your mother in her 
old place ? She might have been in the house, 
for all you knew. You surely didn’t come 
away without trying to find out something ! ” 
“No,” said the boy, in a dogged tone, “ I 
did n’t ; but it wa’n’t no use. I asked the 
ticket-man at the depot, — I remembered him 
well enough, cross old Cap’n Bixley, used to 
be alwuz a drivin’ us boys off’n the platform 
with his big cane, — I asked him what had 
become o’ the widow woman that used to 
live in the cottage ’cross the way from Wil- 
low Pond. He alwuz had the name o’ know- 
in’ all the news about everybody. He an- 
swered me pat enough : ‘ Moved away nigh 
onto two year ago ; did n’t tell nobody where 
she was goin’ to; mighty close-mouthed sort of 
a woman.’ And then he pushed his specs clear 

100 


BALM IN GILEAD. 


101 


up atop o’ his bald head, an’ ‘ Why, you be 
her boy, ain’t you, that ran away? Well, 
now ! ’ An’ I said back, ‘ ’T ain’t none o’ yOur 
business, as I know of ; ’ an’ then the train 
come boomin’ along, an’ I jumped aboard of 
her, an’ come back here, feelin’ like a fool for 
all my pains. I might ha’ known she ’d be 
glad to get rid o’ me, an’ move away where 
she ’d know I could never get on her tracks 
again.” 

“ Paul ! ” exclaimed Jessie ; “ you don’t be- 
lieve that while you’re saying it of your 
mother I ” 

“ I do believe it,” he persisted, sullenly. 
“ Else what did she go ’way at all for ? She 
had n’t no need to. The little house was her 
own ; my father was a carpenter, an’ he built 
it himself, an’ made the most o’ the things in 
it. An’ she was a strong woman, and never 
sick. She could make a good livin’ at washin’, 
any time ; an’ we had pigs an’ chickens an’ 
ducks an’ geese, an’ a bit o’ garden to the 
back where we grew potaters an’ cabbage an’ 
that sort o’ stuff. There wa’n’t nothin’ to 
make her leave her home, ’cept just to hide 
herself where I couldn’t find her. Well, 
she may go back again soon as she ’s a mind 


102 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

to. I sha’n’t never go lookin’ for her no more, 
that I ’ll promise her ! ” 

“ Paul ! ” said Jessie again, almost sternly. 
The little girl thought she was beginning to 
see why his mother had felt it necessary to 
be so severe with him. He had a self-willed, 
resentful disposition that must have been 
rather difficult to deal with. At the same 
time, she could understand what a terrible 
disappointment all this must have been to 
him, and, as she looked at his pale face and 
gloomy eyes, she felt more like comforting 
the unhappy boy than scolding, or even rea- 
soning with, him. Besides, she knew he had 
been talking a great deal, and ought to rest ; 
so she only said, gently, — 

“ I think you are mistaken ; and I wish 
you ’d try and think so, too, for your own 
sake, Paul, you poor fellow ! I can’t believe 
any mother would really try to get away 
from her child ; not any but a very, very^ 
very wicked woman, and that I don’t believe 
your mother was. Neither do you, really, 
in your heart. You only don’t know what 
mother-love is ; but I do ! And I tell you, 
Paul, as sure as you live, your mother left 
her nice little home only because she could n’t 


BALM IN GILEAD. 


103 


bear to stay in it any longer without her bad 
boy, that she loved all the time she was try- 
ing the wrong way to make him good ! And 
I feel it way down in my heart, that she ’s 
here somewhere, in this very city of New 
York, waiting, and watching, and looking 
everywhere for you, and one of these days 
you’ll come across each other again. Now 
you just see if my words don’t come true ! ” 

Jessie was speaking very eagerly again, 
but Paul answered her only by a weary shake 
of his head. He felt very tired, and Jessie 
saw it, and began to reproach herself. 

“You will be all worn out if we talk any 
more,” she said, gently smoothing the hair 
back from his forehead. “ And yet I believe 
you will feel better for letting it all out. 
Now you know you’ve got somebody to be 
sorry for you, ‘ and that always helps to bear 
things.’ I want you to let me give you some 
more custard now, and then I shall go away, 
and you must try and sleep.” 

“I hate to trouble you,” the boy said; 
“but I do feel kind o’ hollow, an’ it tastes so 
good.” 

“ It ’s no trouble at all, but a great pleas- 
ure,” rejoined Jessie, taking the pretty bowl 


104 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


from the table again, and beginning to feed 
him in her dainty way. 

He took it simply, as a child would from 
its mother’s hand; and the matron stopped 
and nodded kindly as she was passing by the 
cot. 

“ That ’s good for him,” she said, looking 
into the bowl. “ He has no fever now, and 
needs building up. It ’s very kind of you. 
Miss, I am sure.” 

“Oh, no, ma’am; I like to,” said Jessie, 
warmly, the shy color coming into her face. 
“And may I bring him some blanc-mange 
the next time I come ? I know how to make 
it very nicely.” 

“ Blanc-mange ? Yes ; that ’s simple, that 
won’t hurt him,” said the matron. “ But can 
you really make these things yourself? It ’s 
more than most girls of your age can say. 
You must have very good bringing up at 
home.” 

Jessie colored still deeper with pleasure, 
and Paul asked, with a sort of grunt, — 

“ Blammarge ? An’^hat ’s that, I ’d like to 
know ? ” 

“ Yes, would n’t you, though ? ” said Jessie, 
laughing. “ But that ’s what I sha’n’t tell you. 


BALM IN GILEAD. 


105 


you see. It ’ll give you something to puzzle 
about till I come again.” 

“ An’ when will that be ? ” he asked, im- 
patiently. 

“Let me see. This is Wednesday . I ’ll come 
on Saturday, in the afternoon, when the work 
is all done. I ’ll try and be here by four 
o’clock. How will that do ? ” 

“ It ’ll have to do, I s’pose,” he said. “ It ’s 
awful good o’ you to come anyhow ; but, oh, 
the days are so long, so long ! ” 

“ Poor boy ! ” said Jessie, her tender little 
heart full of pity. “ I know they are ; I know 
they must be lying here so still, with nothing 
to do but suffer. I wish I could come every 
day to cheer you up ; but I can’t, you know, 
because I have so many other things to do. 
Never mind ; be as patient as you can, and 
pretty soon you ’ll be well enough to read. 
I ’ll bring you some nice books and papers, 
and then the days will seem short again.” 

“ To me, that ’s got to be a cripple to the 
end o’ my life ! ” broke in the boy, bitterly ; 
“with one leg gone, an’ one arm patched up! 
No ; the days ’ll never seem short to me no 
more 1 ” 

The quick tears sprang to Jessie’s eyes. 


106 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

The pitiful hopelessness of his voice and 
look touched her very soul. She longed to 
speak to him of what she felt — child as she 
was ■ — was the only help or comfort for one 
in so sad a case as he. She longed to show 
him the way to God, who grieves not will- 
ingly the children of men ; to lead him close 
to Jesus’ feet — 

“Lay him low, and keep him there.” 

There alone, 'fehe felt, could this poor stricken 
wanderer find pardon and peace ; there alone 
find a surer stay and support even without 
his bodily limbs than he had ever known be- 
fore with them. 

But she saw that he was weary and needed 
rest ; .she did not dare talk to him any more 
now. She only said in her sweet child- way, 
as she bent over him to smooth his pillow, 
“ Poor Paxil ! poor Paul ! Jessie knows just 
how you feel, and Jessie is so sorry for you ! 
And there is One, far greater than Jessie, that 
is sorry for you, too, poor boy. Jesus knows 
all your pain and all your grief ; He pities you, 
and He will help you bear it, if you ask Him. 
I shall ask Him for you, Paul. Good-by ; and 
may He send you sweet sleep to-night ! ” 


BALM IN GILEAD. 


107 


Ten minutes after, Jessie stood at the “ lit- 
tle hall” door of her own home. Her little 
brother opened it for her, his rosy face beam- 
ing with delight. 

“ Oh, Dessie,” he cried, triumphantly. 
“ Yoddie touldn’t wait; he eated his tussard 
all up. Momer dot it for him out o’ de ’fligi- 
lator, an’ now he eated it all up ! ” 

“ Did he ? ” said Jessie, snatching him up, 
and covering his rosy cheeks with kisses. 
“ Did he, the darling ? Bles^that funny little 
tongue of his ! And did it taste good to my 
little boy?” 

“Yes, it did; it .did taste velly. good! 
Did n’t dat oder boy sink it did ? ” 

Jessie laughed, and kissed him again. “ Y es, 

‘ that other boy ’ thought so, too,” she said. 
Something ih her voice made her mother look 
up quickly into her face. 

“You are tired, dear,” she said, coming up 
to her, and helping her take off her hat. 
“ You look almost worn out. Is your patient 
worse ? ” 

Jessie leaned her head against her mother’s 
shoulder. “ Ho, mamma ; he is better, they 
think ; but, oh, it is so hard 1 And he feels so 
bitter. What will he ever do when he gets well 


108 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


enough to go away ? They won’t keep him 
at the hospital, you know, after that. Oh, if 
he only could find his mother ! I ’m so dis- 
appointed. He told me such a story to-day, 
mamma — such a strange story, and so sad ! ” 

“Yes; and you shall tell it to me by and 
by,” her mother said, in a soothing tone. 
She saw that the child’s heart was over-full 
and her brain over- weary. 

“ But, first, I want you to have your tea, and 
get rested a little. Everything is ready, and 
I brought home some of the rusk you like 
so much. Come, now, and let me see you 
enjoy them.” 

Jessie sat down at the pretty round table, 
so nicely laid, with its scarlet cloth, its snowy 
napkins, its few pieces of old-fashioned china 
and silver, and allowed herself t’o be waited 
on for once. She was really tired with the 
stress of her sympathy. 

But the cup of warm “ milk- tea,” and the 
nice fresh rusk, and, above all, the loving- 
ness of her mother, soon refreshed her. She 
wanted to jump up and busy herself as usual, 
when the pleasant repast was ended ; but Mrs. 
Lang smiled, and said, “Ho, no. ‘The work 
must n’t all fall on the little Bed Hen.’ Koddy 


BALM IN GILEAD. 


109 


and I will clear the table, and you sit down 
there, in the easy-chair, and look at this maga- 
zine which has just come in.” 

So Jessie rested her mind awhile from the 
sorrowful subject of which it was full, and 
spent a pleasant hour over the charming- 
pages of the new magazine. She remembered 
then, as she came to the end of a most delight- 
ful story, that her lessons for the next day 
were waiting her. Fortunately, they were 
all “review,” as school-children say; and 
Jessie was in the habit of learning them so 
thoroughly when they were first given to 
her, that a short time sufficed to freshen them 
in her memory. 

Another hour found the little household 
all in order for the night— Eoddy sleeping 
sweetly in his crib, and Jessie in her favorite 
place, on an ottoman at her mother’s knee. 
She had been telling her the story which 
Paul, the newsboy, had told her that day. 
When she finished, she added, earnestly, — 

“ It is hard, mother. ISTow, don’t you think 
it is ? I know he has been a bad boy, but to 
be punished so, it seems too much ; and yet I 
know that God is good.” 

“Yes, dear; and He will make the reason 
10 


110 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


of it all plain in his own time, and, perhaps, 
bring some great good to the boy out of what 
now seems all so hard. Don’t you remember 
Cowper’s beautiful hymn? It has been a 
great comfort to me in many a dark hour. 

‘Blind unbelief is sure to err, 

And scan his works in vain; 

God is his own interpreter, 

And he will make it plain. 

‘Judge not the Lord by feeble sense. 

But trust him for his grace; 

Behind a frowning providence 
He hides a smiling face.’ 

“ Is n’t that comforting ? ” 

“Oh, yes, mamma,” said Jessie, warmly. 
“ I remember it now. I learned that hymn 
at Sunday-school. It is all so beautiful : 

‘The bud may have a bitter taste, 

But sweet will be the flower.’ 

I only wish I could make poor Paul believe 
it, and take the comfort of it! He needs 
some comfort badly enough. Only think, 
mamm^ — a cripple for life, and no mother 
to help him bear it I ” 

The little girl’s voice broke, and she hid 
her face in her mother’s bosom. Mrs. Lang 


BALM IN GILEAD. 


Ill 


put her arms around her and kissed her ten- 
derly. 

“ Eemember the promise God himself has 
spoken, ’ ’ she said, soothingly. ‘ ‘ ‘As one whom 
his mother comfortethj so will I comfort you.’ 
(Isa. Ixvi. 13.) ‘ Like as a father pitieth Ms 

children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear 
him.’ (Psalm ciii. 13.) ‘ There is balm in 

Gilead ’ even for your poor suffering boy, if 
he will only bring his case to the Great Phy- 
sician. And I think, my little daughter, you 
may be able to show him the way there, by 
God’s help. 

“ But I cannot let you talk or think any 
more about it to-night. I must care for you, 
while you care for your patient ; and I want 
you to go to bed now, and try to go to sleep 
at once. I have a letter to write ; but, mind, 
you let me find you in ‘ Dreamland ’ when I 
come ! Good - night, my own dear child, 
and be content to leave your care for your 
poor boy at Christ’s feet. ‘ He knoweth our 
infirmities,’ and pitieth them.” 

Jessie kissed her mother — a long kiss — 
and went as she was bid. But ere she slept, 
a tender little prayer went up to heaven’s gate 
for one who, as yet, prayed not for himself. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

TRIAL-TIME. 

J ESSIE rose early on Saturday morning, as 
she had done on the W ednesday before, 
made her blanc-mange, and turned it into a 
mould to cool. Then - she ran down into the 
yard to gather her valley lilies while the dew 
was still on them, for it was now the first of 
June, and the sun gave promise already of a 
warm day. 

Another little girl of about her own age 
was already there, bending over one of the 
flower-borders. Jessie recognized her as Ella 
Reed, one of the children who lived on the 
second floor, and called out “ Good-morning ; ” 
but she did not seem to hear, and kept on 
stooping over the bed. Jessie went across to 
her own corner, and, bending down, parted 
with careful hands the broad green leaves of 
her valley lilies. To her utter consternation, 
not a single spray of the beloved flowers was 
to be seen ! Yet only the very evening be- 

112 


TRIAL-TIME. 


113 


fore, Jessie had been down to look after them, 
and had seen with delight that every leaf 
shaded its own cluster of daintily perfumed 
cream-white bells. What had become of 
them ? Was it possible Ella Eeed had helped 
herself to her neighbor’s property ? 

Jessie started to her feet, indignant at the 
mere thought of such a thing. She crossed 
quickly over to the side of the yard where 
Ella was. The girl still kept her head bent 
down, and seemed absorbed in weeding her 
bed. 

“ Ella ! ” said Jessie, and there was a sharp 
ring to her clear young voice. “ Last night 
my lily of the valley bed was full of blos- 
soms. Now there is n’t a single one left. Do 
you know what has become of them ? ” 

The girl was obliged to lift her face now. 
It was very red, but that might have come 
from stooping so long. 

“The idea!” she began, assuming a tone 
of injury. “For you to ask me such a ques- 
tion as that 1 Why should you suppose I 
knew anything about your flowers, Jessie 
Lang ? ” 

Jessie stood looking down at the stooping 
figure with a keen glance, which presently 

10* H 


114 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

changed to one of contempt and indigna- 
tion. 

“Why?” she asked, in a cutting tone, 
pointing to a cluster of milk-white bells that 
hung, half-hidden by its green leaf, at Ella’s 
side. “Why? There is the answer; see it 
for yourself. The rest are hidden in your 
apron nOw, I suppose. You would have 
covered them up better if you had known 
I was coming, would n’t you ? ” 

The clear, scornful tones cut like a whip. 
Ella got up sullenly to her feet, letting the 
contents of her apron fall to the ground. 
The red flush faded from her face, leaving it 
pale and defiant instead. 

“ You need n’t speak so grand and haughty 
just for a parcel of miserable flowers, Jessie 
Lang,” she said, more in anger than shame. 
“ I did pick ’em, because I wanted ’em ; and I 
did n’t suppose you ’d be so stingy. It ’s Julia 
Colton’s birthday, and she ’s going to have a 
party, and I ’m invited. All the girls will 
give her something, and I have nothing ; so I 
thought I’d take her a bouquet. I didn’t 
have flowers enough of my own, and so I 
took yours. I haven’t hurt ’em, though, 


TRIAL-TIME. 


115 


and there they are. Y on may take ’em back, 
if you choose ! ” 

Jessie smiled a little haughty smile. “ No, 
thank you,” she said, in the same cutting tone; 
“I wouldn’t care to have them now. You 
are quite welcome to them. You must have 
wanted them badly, indeed, before you would 
condescend to take them. You ’re entirely 
welcome to keep them now ! ” “ And yet 

she might have left me just one spray! ” she 
thought, the tears springing, as she turned 
haughtily away. “ My poor, lovely, little val- 
ley lilies I What will that vain, silly Julia 
Colton care for them ? She ’d rather have an 
artificial flower any day. And I know my 
poor Paul would have liked them so much. 
Now I have n’t a single flower to put in his 
vase! I never heard of such a bold, mean 
thing I ” She was going in the house, dis- 
consolately enough, when she felt her arm 
suddenly pulled from behind, and, turning, saw 
Ella Keed standing beside her, her face white 
with anger and resentment. 

“ I won’t have your flowers 1 ” she said, 
passionately. “ Do you suppose I would take 
anything given to me in that way, Jessie 
Lang ? I know what makes you put on such 


116 


THE FLOWER-MISSIOJSr. 


airs all of a sudden, and be so stingy with 
your old flowers. It ’s all because you think 
you ’re so fine, going in with the church ladies 
into that foolish nonsense they ’ve got up now 
that they call ‘the Flower-Charity.’ Some 
of ’em asked my mother to join, but she 
told ’em ‘ No. She thought it was the silliest 
thing she ever heard of — carrying flowers to 
poor people ! Lazy, good-for-nothing things ! 
They ’d better go to work, and they would n’t 
have time to be thinking about flowers.’ ‘ But 
why should they go to work,’ as mother says, 

‘ when there ’s always some foolish set or 
another to fill their heads with ridiculous 
notions, and make ’em expect to be took care 
of! ’ And if you ’ve got so mighty good and 
religious all at once. Miss Jessie Lang, I think 
you could show it better by not getting in a 
rage just for nothing, than by trotting around^ 
all dressed up, carrying flowers to lazy beg- 
gars. I don’t think much of such piety as 
that!” 

Jessie stood still, struck dumb for a minute 
by this tirade. A sudden flush crept to her 
cheek, and a feeling of sorrow and shame came 
over her. Eude and violent as this girl’s words 
were, they were true to some extent. Jessie 


TRIAL-TIME. 


117 


had not brought honor on Christ, or his re- 
ligion, by the way in which she had borne the 
trial that had come to her. If Jesus had said 
of himself, “ I am meek and lowly in heart,” 
how could she, who professed to be his fol- 
lower, take it upon herself to show such 
scorn and contempt of another ? She remem- 
bered the command, “Be ye angry, and sin 
not ; ” but she had sinned in her anger, and had 
shown it in a way which would only arouse 
that other’s worse feelings, not awaken her to 
shame and sorrow for her fault. She had 
planned to herself that this very day she 
would try and win Paul to the service of 
Christ; but what good influence could she 
hope to have, when she herself did not follow 
his example? 

She had missed an opportunity to serve 
Him in more than one way; she had not 
only failed to show his power to make us 
govern our evil tempers, but she had let a 
chance go by of changing a false -impression 
into a true one about the special work of the 
Flower- Mission. If she had controlled her 
anger at the loss of her lilies, and explained 
to Ella, kindly, why she cared so much about 
them, she could probably have interested her 


118 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


in the work, or at least given her something 
nearer a true idea of it. There was no doubt 
but that she had had cause for indignation ; 
no doubt that Ella had done a very wrong 
thing, and then tried meanly to conceal it. 
Jessie could not but feel that such conduct 
was contemptible ; but she thought to herself, 
“ What must Jesus, who was so pure and holy, 
think of what He sees sometimes in our hearts 
— mine, as well as Ella’s, or anybody’s else ? 
And yet He is always so tender and forgiv- 
ing. Why could not I have been more like 
Him ? ” 

All this flashed through Jessie’s mind in 
an instant, and with the repentance came the 
quick desire of amendment. She replied to 
Ella in a very gentle tone, — 

“ I think your mother does n’t quite under- 
stand, or perhaps she ’d feel differently,” she 
said. “ It is only to poor sick people we take 
the flowers, in the hospitals and in their own 
miserable little homes ; and if you knew what 
a comfort it is for them to have something 
pretty and sweet to look at, and how it helps 
them to get well, and makes them want to 
keep things cleaner arouiid them, and let in 
fresh air for the sake of the flowers, you 


TRIAL-TIME. 


119 


would n’t think it was a silly thing to do. It 
was for a poor sick boy at the hospital that 
I was saving those lilies, Ella — a poor little 
newsboy who was run over by a wagon, and 
had his leg and his arm broken. He suffers 
so much and the time passes so slow, and it 
is some little pleasure to have the flowers to 
look at — ” 

Her lip trembled, and she stopped. Ella 
gazed at her with a hard stare of surprise 
and contempt, and then broke out into a rude 
laugh. 

“Saving them for a newsboy!” she re- 
peated, with disdain. “ Those horrid, dirty, 
little brats 1 What in the world would they 
want with lilies ? They ’re not good to cure 
broken bones, are they ? ” 

Jessie closed her lips tight ; she would not 
trust herself to answer ; and Ella added, re- 
proachfully, “ If that was all you wanted with 
them, you needn’t have made such a fuss 
about my having a few of them 1 ” 

“ I would have given you some of them, if 
you had asked me, Ella,” said Jessie, gently. 
“I didn’t think you ought to have taken 
them without that, or to try to hide it after 
you had done it. I don’t believe you ’ll say 


120 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

it was right either, Ella, when yon come to 
think it over. But all the same, I was wrong 
to speak as I did about it. I’m sorry I let 
my temper get the better of me, and I hope 
you ’ll keep the flowers for your bouquet. 
I ’ll get some more somewhere for Paul ; and 
I ’m sure, if you could see how he enjoys them, 
you ’d think much better of the Flower-Mis- 
sion. Go, pick them up now before they fade ; 
you ’re truly welcome ; and I must go in, for 
I’ve lots to do.” 

She nodded kindly, and went into the house. 
Ella stood for a moment on the area-steps, half- 
softened and half-sullen, not knowing exactly 
what she would do. 

“What a queer girl that Jessie Lang is, 
anyhow ! ” she thought. “ The idea of a girl 
that has to work as she does, bothering her- 
self in her spare time about newsboys, and 
such! Suppose they do get hurt and sick, 
there ’s plenty o’ rich folks, with nothing else 
to do, to spend their time and their money 
for charity. And then for her to tell me she 
was sorry, when it was I had helped myself 
to all of her flowers 1 It was an awful mean 
thing for' me to do. I must own that, and I 
did feel cheap when she found me out. Mercy 1 


TRIAL-TIME. 


121 


I should have said twice as much if I had 
been in her place. I should have told her 
downright she had stolen ’em, and, more 
than that, I ’d have told everybody else the 
same. But I don’t believe she ’ll tell a soul. 
I wonder if it is because she ’s religious that 
makes her act better than other girls ? Some 
day, I mean to have a talk with her, and try 
and find out if there is anything in it. But, 
now, I might as well go and pick up the 
flowers ; it ’s a shame to let ’em lie and wither, 
and I can see she don’t want ’em now. Some 
day I ’ll make it all up to her. I can’t help 
liking her, for all she found me out in a mean 
trick ! ” 

Having reached which conclusion, this 
rather peculiar young person walked back to 
the foot of the yard, and picked up the lilies, 
still wet with dew, which she had let fall upon 
the grass-plot. She did not know it, nor did 
Jessie, but a seed had been dropped in the 
fallow ground of her soul that morning which 
would, by God’s help, one day spring up, and 
bring forth blossoms far more precious than 
even those pure and lovely lilies I 

Meanwhile, poor Jessie went up the stairs 
to her own rooms much more soberly than 
11 


122 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


she had come down. As she went in past 
the kitchen-door, Mrs. Vogt, the laundress, 
who was busy there, looked up from her work, 
and noticed the cloud on the fair little face. 

“ Und why is it de 'sun no shine to-day ? ” 
she asked, kindly, with a smile that lit up her 
grave, dark face. “ De little Miss no feel well 
to-day ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, thank you, I feel well enough,” 
answered Jessie, trying to return the smile. 
“I’m a little disappointed, that ’s all. I 
thought I should have some flowers to-day 
for my sick boy, and I have n’t — not a single 
one.” 

The washer- woman drew her arms for a mo- 
ment from the tubs. A strangely tender and 
sympathetic expression softened her weather- 
beaten countenance. “ Ah, yes,” she said, in 
a voice full of feeling ; “ de poor sick boy dat 
vas hurt mit de wagon ! De gracious lady, 
your mudder, she was yoost telling me about 
dat boy. Und it is for him you cook de nice 
dishes, und for him you make empty de little 
garden, my sweet Miss ! Ah, wohl ! De good 
Gott will bless you for it, und for de no flow- 
ers you shall not grieve. I should like to 
do sometings for dat poor boy ; und I have 


TRIAL-TIME. 


123 


flowers in mein own little yard. Not so 
many ; not 'SO pretty ; but better dan noth- 
ings for de poor sick eyes. Go you to my 
house, Miss, und open de gate, und valk in, 
und help yourself. You are velcome to all, 
und dat poor boy is velcome.” 

A glow of pleasure chased the shadow 
away from the little girl’s face. 

“ Oh, Mrs. Y ogt ! I ’m so glad ! ” she cried. 
“ How nice it is of you to offer me that ! But 
I sha’n’t take all your flowers. No, indeed ! 
Only a few for my poor boy. So mamma 
told you about him, did she ? And you are 
sorry for him ? I can see that.” 

The washer-woman lifted her face again ; 
it wore a dark and troubled look. 

“Yes,” she said, with a curious catch in her 
breath ; “ yes, I feel it in mine heart — sorry 
for de boy. I did haf once a boy mine self.” 

“ I know you did, ” said Jessie, softly. 
“Mamma told me so. How hard it must 
have been for you to lose him ! ” 

“ Lose him ? lose him ? ” repeated the 
woman, with a wild look and tone that made 
Jessie start. “ Oh, yes, it is so, as you say, 
leetle Miss. I did lose him ; und it was right 
for me. I was not goot ; I did not know. 


124 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

Yes, it was right; but mein heart, it broke — 
und my poor son ; how is it mit him ? ” 

She stood still, looking straight at the blank 
wall before her, her eyes far away, and her 
bony features working convulsively. 

Jessie did not understand all she said, and 
felt half frightened at her strange manner. 
But she was deeply sorry for her grief, and 
longed to say something that would comfort 
her. 

“You mustn’t talk so, Mrs. Yogt,” she 
ventured, presently. “ I know you are good, 
else our little Koddy would n’t love you so. 
He likes to be with you ’most as well as with 
mamma. You must n’t think God took your 
boy because He was angry with you. It is 
often the best people that have the most 
trouble. One of these days, mamma says, we 
shall know why it is so.” 

Mrs. Yogt looked at her as if she only 
half understood. 

“He leetle Koddy? yes, I haf him,” she 
said, and plunged her arms deep into the 
seething tubs. A cloud of steam rose up, 
filling the little kitchen, and Jessie went out 
quickly, closing the door behind her. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A iVr^TF FRIEND, 

I SHALL give poor Paul a pleasant sur- 
prise,” thought Jessie, cheerily, as she 
stood that afternoon, brushing out her wavy 
brown hair, at her pretty white-frilled toilet- 
table. “ He won’t expect me till four, and I 
shall be there long before ! It ’s not quite 
three yet, and I shall only stop a few minutes 
at Mrs. Yogt’s for the flowers. Poor Mrs. 
Y ogt ! how sorry I am for her ! How strange 
she is sometimes. I suppose her trouble has 
made her so. And it has made Paul bitter 
and hard, too. Oh, dear! I wonder why 
God does send so much trouble to .some peo- 
ple! It must be for their good; and how 
much better they could bear it if they would 
only think so. I wonder if I should, if real 
sorrow came to me ! I think I should, for it 
would be the greatest comfort I could have, 
to know it was sent by a Father’s hand. I 
11 * 125 


126 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

wish I could make Paul feel so. Well, at 
least, I will do what I can. I am glad, any- 
how, the blanc-mange is so nice ! ” 

She was still thinking out these thoughts 
in her child-like way, as she walked along 
with her basket in her hand towards Mrs. 
Vogt’s cottage. 

The part of the city in which Jessie lived 
was very far up town, and the streets were 
not, as yet, very closely built up. Many of 
the houses stood alone, almost as if in the 
country, with lawns and shrubbery all around 
them. All of them had little grass-plots in 
the areas, which were green as velvet on this 
sunny day ; and almost all showed a glimpse 
of flowers or trailing vines at the open win- 
dows or up the porch railings. 

Jessie had a loving eye for all of them, as 
she tripped along ; and presently she came 
to a place so beautiful, that she stopped in- 
voluntarily, and uttered an exclamation of 
surprise and delight. She had unconsciously 
gone on a block too far, and turned into a 
cross street through which she had never 
passed before, so that the house she had just 
reached was entirely new to her. 

It was nothing special in itself, only a 


A NEW FRIEND. 


127 


broad wooden house, painted a light brown, 
with wings at each side, and a wide piazza 
running across. But it stood in the midst 
of grounds which, to Jessie’s inexperienced 
eyes, looked almost like fairy-land. The 
lawn was soft as emerald velvet; great 
catalpa and magnolia trees shed down upon 
it a wealth of richly - scented blossoms ; 
strange - looking shrubs, with leaves like 
fans, or growing in jagged spikes of green and 
scarlet, stood in great tubs here and there. 
A rustic arbor at one side was completely 
embowered in honeysuckle and clematis ; 
great grape-like clusters of wistaria hung 
from the piazza. Oleander trees, hydrangeas, 
rhododendrons, and other shrubs that Jessie 
knew, mingled with the foreign-looking plants 
on the lawn; a fanciful “rockery,” just in 
front, was almost covered with trailing ivy 
and purple - blossomed myrtle; and roses 
bloomed everywhere, alike in sunny and 
shady spaces. 

It was certainly a charming spot to come 
upon unaware on such a delicious afternoon. 
The rapture of the sudden vision almost took 
Jessie’s breath away ; and she stopped quite 
still in front of the gate, and exclaimed, aloud, 


128 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


“ Oh ! oh ! how lovely ! ” 

She had no idea there was any one within 
hearing, and was so absorbed in drinking in 
the delights of beauty and perfume, that she 
started back, almost in fright, when a voice 
suddenly sounded at her side. 

“ Oh, don’t be afraid,” it went on to say. 
“ I ’m sure you are welcome to look as much 
as you like. So you think my flowers are 
lovely, do you ? ” 

“Yes, indeed, ma’am, I do,” said Jessie, 
coloring, and looking shyly up. 

She saw a lady, rather stout and past mid- 
dle age, with a rough shade-hat, and a great 
brown linen apron tied on over her black silk 
dress. She wore thick gloves, and had a pair 
of gardening-scissors in her hands ; and was 
evidently in the habit of taking a good deal 
of care of her plants herself. This fact, to- 
gether with her kindly look and tone, put 
Jessie more at her ease, and she ventured to 
add, — 

“ I think this is the very prettiest place I 
ever saw ! ” 

The lady smiled, as if well pleased. 

“You do, do you?” she said, in a cordial 
way. “Well, I don’t know: I suppose it is 





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I'll give you a bunch of howers if you like.” 


p. 120 



A NEW FRIEND. 


129 


rather a pretty spot. You see my children 
are all married, and I have nothing to pet but 
my flowers. I never did care much for cats 
and dogs. I rather think you must be fond 
of them, too. Come in, if you like, and I ’ll 
cut you a bunch. I don’t mind giving them 
to people that love them.” 

Jessie’s round face was in a glow of delight. 
W ould she have believed five minutes ago that' 
she would ever be inside of this charmed en- 
closure? And yet here was this kind lady, 
just like a good mother, inviting her to enter, 
as if it were the most natural thing in the 
world ! 

“ Oh, I ’m sure,” Jessie began : she scarcely 
knew what to say. “ You are too kind. I 
didn’t think of such a thing — ” 

The lady took up her words quickly. “ No, 
of course, you did n’t ; and I should n’t think 
of such a thing, either, with every little girl 
that looked through my palings. But I can 
tell one thing from another as well as most 
people ; and I ’ll give you a bunch of flowers, 
if you like.” 

“ Oh, indeed, I should like them, ma’am,” 
said Jessie, eagerly, her happy face sparkling 
with pleasure, as she came through the gate 
I 


130 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

which the lady held open for her. “ I was 
jnst on my way to get some flowers ; but I 
know they would n’t have been anything like 
these.” 

“Oh! and where were you going to get 
your flowers ? ” asked the lady, who seemed 
to like the chance of having a little chat. 

“ To a woman ’s who washes for my mother. 
•She has a little cottage with a yard all to her- 
self; and she raises some flowers, larkspurs, 
and marigolds, and prince’s feather, and that 
sort. She said I might have some, and I was 
very glad, because any flowers are better than 
none. But I like best those that have a sweet 
smell.” 

“ And so do I, too,” said Jessie’s new friend, 
quite enjoying the child’s artless talk. “I 
like the sweet-scented ones best; but I like 
those that are only beautiful, too. ISTow look 
at this, for instance.” She stopped, and held 
aside the spiked leaves of one of the great 
foreign-looking plants. A flower, almost as 
large as an orange, with thick cream-white 
leaves, spotted with crimson stars, and hiding 
a golden cluster in its centre, stood revealed 
to view. 

“ There 1 could anything be more beautiful 


A NEW FRIEND. 


131 


than that? ” she asked, surveying it with ad- 
miring pride. 

“ That is a very rare plant, with a name 
quite too big for your little mouth. I wish 
they would n’t give such terribly hard names 
to all the new flowers nowadays ! For I like 
to have them all in my greenhouse back 
yonder, and I never get tired of admiring 
their beauty ! And I never can get over my 
wonder at the power of God in creating so 
many different kinds, and no two leaves or 
buds alike I But still, as you say, one loves 
the sweet ones best ; and if you will tell me 
• now which are your favorites, I should n’t 
. wonder if we could* find them all here. Koses 
to begin with, I ’m pretty sure ! ” 

“Yes, roses,” said Jessie, in happy excite- 
ment ; “ roses, of course 1 Everybody loves 
them ; and, oh, how many you have got, and 
what beautiful ones they all are ! Then, 
.violets, — but I’m afraid they’re all gone, — 
and lilies of the valley, and clove-pinks ; he- 
liotrope and mignonette, and lemon- verbena. 
Oh, I can’t remember half my favorites — I 
have so many ! But don’t mind that ; just 
give me, please, whatever you like. I love 
them all, the beautiful things ! ” 


132 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


“ I believe you do, you child, you ! ” said 
the lady, beaming with a motherly smile on 
Jessie, as the little girl poured out her eager 
delight. 

“ W ell, come with me, and I think I can 
find you some of all your favorites. I have 
an old-fashioned garden at the back of the 
house, which the gardener claims mostly for 
his fruits and vegetables ; but he allows me 
to fill the borders with my pets. First, how- 
ever, I shall give you some of these roses.” 

She moved about over the lawn, from bush 
to bush, cutting, with a liberal hand, great 
clusters of the lovely queen flowers. They 
were of every hue and size — creamy-white, 
velvety-crimson, cloth of gold, sea-shell pink, 
moss-girt buds, half-opened blossoms, and the 
full, rich, glorious flower. 

Jessie was fairly wild with delight as the 
treasures were dropped into the lady’s ample 
apron. Cluster after cluster of incense-breath- 
ing heliotrope and mignonette, spicy carna- 
tion, and fragrant valley lilies, were added 
to the roses. Sweet-scented geranium-leaves 
and branches of myrtle added their shading 
green to the mass of brilliant color ; and, as 
if to make her happiness perfect, a few late 


A NEW FRIEND. 


133 


violets betrayed themselves by tbeir per- 
fume, hiding modestly among the roots of a 
thick-leaved catalpa. 

“ There ! how will that do ? ” the good 
lady asked, when her apron at length would 
hold no more. “ Do you think you will have 
your fill of flowers for once ? I shall have to 
lend you a basket to carry these home ! ” 

Jessie’s sparkling face shadowed over for a 
moment. She wondered if the lady would 
like what she was going to do with them? 
She had not thought of that before. 

“I ought to have told you, ma’am,” she 
said, in a hesitating tone, “ that I did n’t mean 
to keep these flowers myself, — only a very 
few, at least.” 

The lady turned and looked at her sharply. 

“Not keep them yourself? And how is 
that ? Pray, what are you going to do with 
them, then ? ” 

Jessie colored, and looked nervously down 
at her little basket. 

“ I was on my way to the hospital, ma’am, 
to take some blanc-mange to a poor sick boy. 
I always take him a few flowers, too, and I 
was to stop and get some at our washer- 
woman’s. You offered me these, and I can’t 
12 


134 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


go back now to take them home. I thought 
I would like to give some to all the poor sick 
people. The ladies do every week, and they 
like it so to have something pretty for their 
poor tired eyes ! ” 

She looked up modestly as she finished her 
simple explanation, and met the kindly eyes 
of her new friend fixed on her in a surprised 
and puzzled gaze. 

“ To the hospital ? ” she repeated ; “ to take 
flowers to the patients ! W ell, now, that ’s an 
entirely new idea to me. The ‘ ladies ’ do it, 
I think you said. What ladies, and who 
started it, anyhow? Do you mean there is 
really anything in it ? Come ; sit right down 
here on the bench in this arbor, and tell me 
all about it, please. I feel as if I should like 
to know.” 

Jessie’s face grew bright again. “ If you ’ll 
just please tell me first what time it is,” she 
answered, eagerly. “ I should like to tell you 
so much, but I promised my boy to be there 
at four o’clock, and I can’t bear to keep him 
waiting.” 

The lady took a gold watch from her belt. 
“ It is not quite half-past three,” she said. 

IIow long will it take you to walk there ? 


A NEW FRIEND. 


135 


“ Oh, barely ten minutes,” replied Jessie. 

“ Then you have twenty to spare for me,” 
said the lady. “ But, first, I must send for a 
basket for these.” 

She called to a maid-servant who just then 
appeared on the piazza, and desired her to 
bring a light basket and a sprinkler full of 
water. When they were brought, she pro- 
ceeded to take the flowers out of her apron, 
showering them with cool drops as she placed 
them carefully in the basket, and signifying 
to Jessie that she was ready to listen to her at 
the same time. 

So Jessie told the plan of the Flower-Mis- 
sion as nicely as she could, trying to remember 
all the minister had said; and adding what 
she had seen herself of the pleasure that had 
been given to the patients in the ward. The 
lady listened with great interest. 

“ And what about this boy to whom you are 
taking this little basket ? ” she asked, when 
the little girl had stopped. 

Jessie then told her poor Paul’s sad story 
briefly, but in the earnest, pitying way in which 
she always spoke of him, and the lady watched 
her and listened closely. 

“Well, T don’t know when I Ve been more 


136 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

interested,” she said, presently, when Jessie 
had finished. “ I think it is a beautiful work, 
and I should like to take a part in it myself. 
Of course, I can give you any quantity of 
flowers. I raise them because I love to tend 
them, and I have n’t a great deal else to do. 
But they just grow here and die by the thou- 
sands, and you and your ladies are welcome 
to all you want. I ’m sure I shall be glad if 
they give comfort to the poor souls that need 
comfort so much. But I should like to do 
something more. Now, there is this boy — 
poor little unfortunate fellow ! You say you 
are taking him something nice to eat. Now 
there must be many another poor sick creat- 
ure in that same ward who craves something 
pleasant to his palate. I doubt if they have 
time or means up there to make the food very 
appetizing, and I suppose a little fruit or jelly, 
or something of that sort, would be very ac- 
ceptable. Don’t you think it would ? ” 

“Oh, yes, indeed, ma’am, I know it would ! ” 
cried J essie, warmly. “ Such things are always 
good in sickness, and, besides, the matron told 
me so herself. The doctors have told her 
what may be allowed.” 

“Well! now, I don’t know but you have 


A NEW FRIEND. 


137 


noticed it, I have a strawberry bed at the 
foot of my garden that will bear more berries 
than I could eat in my lifetime. My gardener 
has got a craze that way. Then there ’s a 
hedge of Lawton blackberries, and on one 
side currants and the other raspberries. The 
long arbor down the middle walk is as full of 
young grapes as it can hang. You see this 
place of mine is an old place ; the main part 
of this house was built fifty years ago, and 
there ’s always been a good garden here. I 
always have more fruit than I know what to 
do with, now that my children are married 
and gone. I put up gallons and gallons every 
summer. I have fruit-syrups and cordials, 
and jams and jellies, that have lasted over 
from year to year, on my store-room shelves, 
to say nothing of jars and jars of canned things 
and fancy preserves. I give them away right 
and left, but always to those who could just 
as well buy them for themselves. I never 
thought of them for the poor sick folks before ; 
to my shame I say it, though I subscribe a 
good deal to one charity and another. But I 
shall think of them after this, I promise you ; 
and they shall have all the fruit I can spare, 
and you shall be the one to take it to them. 

12 * 


138 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

For it is you wlio brought them to my mind, 
and I believe you are a very good girl, and I 
am glad you stopped at my gate to-day. You 
shall never stop at it again, though ; you shall 
come in as often as you like, and I shall be 
glad to see you, and to hear about your poor 
little newsboy, and all the rest. 

And now you must go, right straight off, 
or he ’ll be thinking you won’t come. Good- 
by. And what is your name ? ” 

Jessie had listened to this long speech with 
feelings of intense joy. What a happy thing 
it was, to have interested in the -blessed work 
of ministering to the sick one who was so 
able as well as willing to help them in just 
the way that was nearest her heart! How 
fortunate it was that she had started to Mrs. 
Vogt’s, and so chanced to pass this enchanted 
ground 1 What wonderful good it had pleased 
God to bring out of her trial about her lilies 
that morning, even though she had not borne 
it meekly at first 1 Her heart was so full, she 
could scarcely speak. And yet her new friend 
had such a kind and motherly manner, and 
such a plain, straightforward way of speaking, 
that J essie could not feel very greatly in awe 
of her. She seized the lady’s hands with a 


A NEW FRIEND. 


139 


sudden impulse. “Oh, I wish I could tell 
you how much I thank you ! ” she said, in a 
passion of grateful joy. “ The poor sick peo- 
ple ; they will thank you better, if you ’ll 
come yourself, and see what comfort you will 
give them. It is so good of you to ask me 
here again ! I shall love to come, and I know 
my mother will let me. She is Mrs. Lang, 
and I am Jessie, her little girl. We don’t 
live very far from here, and we go to Mr. 
Chester’s church.” 

“ You do ? I know him very well, though 
I attend church nearer by. Well, Miss Jessie 
Lang, you may tell your mother that I think 
her little girl is a very nice little girl, and I 
shall be glad to know her better. I am Mrs. 
Kussell, Mrs. Solomon Eussell, and I shall 
make you welcome whenever you choose to 
come. • But now, as I said before, you must 
be going.” 

“Yes, I am going,” said Jessie, laughing, 
and taking up her basket of flowers. “Good- 
by, Mrs. Eussell, and many, many 'thanks! 
You will come some day to the hospital your- 
self, won’t you ? ” 

“Yes, I think I will. You shall stop for 
me the next time you go. I ’ll have a basket 


140 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


of jellies and syrups put, up this very after- 
noon, and then they’ll be ready whenever 
you come. Good-by, now, and give me a 
kiss ; though it is n’t everybody I ’d care to 
kiss.” 

Jessie colored with shy pleasure, and gladly 
did as she was asked. Then she hastened off 
to keep her appointment, as happy a child as 
could be found in all the big city that after- 
noon ! 

It lacked just a minute of four by the great 
timepiece in the hall, as Jessie entered the 
“Accident Ward.” Her eyes went straight 
in the direction of Paul’s bed, and met his 
anxiously turned towards the door. A ray 
of pleasure flashed into them as they fell on 
the little girl’s face ; but it faded out almost 
instantly, and Jessie saw, as soon as she reached 
him, that he was suffering a great deal of 
pain. 

“ What is it, poor Paul ? ” she asked, ten- 
derly, as she noticed his drawn and nervous 
look. “ Y ou are not so well. What has made 
you worse?” 

“ Oh, I am not worse ; at least the doctors 
say so, and, of course, they know how a fellow 
feels better’n than he does hisself ! ” said the 


A NEW FRIEND. 


141 


boy, making a grimace of pain. “ They say 
I ’m a doin’ fust-rate ; an’ it ’s only the bones a’ 
knittin’ together, an’ the stump a tryin’ to 
heal itself, that makes me feel so ter’ble bad. 
It ’s easy enough for them to talk. I guess 
they’d squeal, though, if they had one pin 
run into their flesh ; but as for me, I feel as 
if I was nothin’ but a pin- cushion all over ! ” 
“ Poor Paul ! poor boy ! ” said Jessie, in her 
pitying voice, laying her cool hand on his 
feverish brow. “ I am so sorry for you ! 
But the doctors must know, and perhaps this 
is the worst, and you’ll soon begin to get 
quite well. Try and be patient, hard as it is ! ” 
“ Patient ! patient ! ” muttered the boy. 
“ I ’m tired of being patient.” Then, tossing 
his head angrily on his ^pillow, he cried out 
aloud, — 

“ I think it is too cruel ! What have I 
done worse than many another fellow, that I 
should be punished as bad as this ? ” 

Jessie took his hand soothingly in both of 
hers. 

“It may not be punishment, Paul,” she 
said, in her gentlest voice. “It may be in 
love, and some way make you happier than 
you ever would have been. W e cannot know ; 


142 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

we must try and believe, and wait patiently 
until we see. 

‘God is his own interpreter, 

And he will make it plain ! ’ 

“ Listen to me a little while, Paul ; maybe 
it ’ll take your mind off your pain. And I 
want to tell you something that happened to 
my own self to-day. What great good came 
out of a little trouble! Will you listen, 
Paul?” 

He grunted out a sullen assent, and Jessie 
began, and told him the story of the loss of 
her lilies ; how angry she was, and how the 
thought of Jesus helped her to overcome 
that anger. She repeated the talk she had. 
had with Ella Eeed, and said she hoped she 
had done some good by it. Then she went 
on to the fortunate acquaintance with Mrs. 
Eussell, and pictured the happy results that 
would come from it — the sympathy, and kind- 
ness, and real service that she could bestow, 
and would probably n6ver cease to bestow, so 
long as her life and her health remained. 

“ And all of this grew, you see, Paul,” she 
added, earnestly, “out of my trouble about 
my poor lilies. For if I had found them 


A NEW FRIEND. 


143 


where I left them, (5ur washer- woman would 
never have offered me her flowers, and I 
should not have passed by Mrs. Eussell’s 
house. It seemed very hard to me at first, 
and I wondered why such a thing must hap- 
pen to me ? But God helped me to get over 
that feeling ; and, Paul, He can help you to get 
over yours. I know my little trouble was 
nothing to what you have to bear; yet it 
would have made me angry all day, if the 
thought of Jesus had not come’ to remind me 
how He bore things. And your trial will not 
seem half so hard, if you can only make up 
your mind to bear it because it is God’s will, 
and to believe that whatever He does is right. 
Then some good will be sure to come out of 
it, anyway. You ’ll feel better in your heart, 
whether you do in your body or not ; and, 
Paul, that ’s the best place to feel good in. I 
tell you, and I know it, of my right own 
self!-” 

The child felt what she said so deeply that 
she spoke with an eloquence beyond her 
years. Paul listened, and a softened look 
came into his gloomy face. There must be 
something in this “ help ” she talked of with 
such a voice and such a look 1 He only wished 


144 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


he could find it, too ; he was tired of strug- 
gling with his burden alone ! 

He uttered a moan of weary pain, and Jes- 
sie hastened to offer relief. 

“ I want to show you, now, my flowers,” she 
said, taking the cover off the basket, and 
revealing the wealth of beauty and per- 
fume. “ Hid you ever see anything so lovely 
in your life ? And the very prettiest are for 
you.” 

Miserable as he felt, the sight could not 
but awaken a thrill of pleasure. “ Oh, them 
are beauties, an’ no mistake ! ” he exclaimed, 
as one after another of the exquisite clusters 
was lifted before his admiring eyes. “An’ how 
sweet they do smell in this nasty med’cine air ! 
She must be a lady, to give you all them ! ” 

“ She is a lady of the best sort,” said Jes- 
sie, enthusiastically ; “ but you know I don’t 
consider them mine. I am going to give a 
bunch to every sick person here ; but, first, I 
must ask the matron if I may. I see her now 
out' in the hall. You won’t mind if I go and 
speak to her, and then you shall watch me 
make up the bouquets.” 

She got up softly, and went lightly out into 
the hall, to make known her wish. The ma- 


A NEW FRIEND. 


145 


tron had not the least objection. “ No doubt 
the poor creatures will enjoy them,” she said, 
good-naturedly. “ Tell the nurses I gave you 
permission.” And then Jessie told her of 
Mrs. Kussell’s promise of fruits and cooling 
drinks. 

“ It is very kind, very kind, indeed,” the 
matron said. “ I shall have to look over 
them, of course, when they come, and perhaps 
speak to some of the doctors. But I have no 
doubt such a person knows what is good for 
the sick, and that it will be of the greatest 
comfort. You must have a kind heart your- 
self, my dear ; but be careful, and don’t talk 
too much to the boy to-day. He is fidgety and 
fretful, and that is a sign he ’s getting better.” 

“ Poor fellow ! ” said Jessie. “ I ’m so glad, 
and I ’ll be very careful ; ” and then she went 
back to arrange her flowers. 

It diverted the sick boy’s thoughts from 
his tiresome pain, to watch the quick little 
fingers deftly sorting the dainty blossoms, and 
grouping together those which harmonized 
best with each other. His great hollow eyes 
followed every movement, full of interest ; and 
presently he said : 

“You ’ll want some string to tie ’em up. I 
13 K 


146 


THE PLOWER-MISSION. 


can give yon that ! I allers have plenty o' 
string in my pockets.” He tried to raise 
himself -on the arm that was well ; then sud- 
denly gave up the effort, while the dark look 
came again to his face. “ Fool ! ” he mut- 
tered under his breath. ‘‘As if I had any 
pockets now ! As if I wa’n’t helplesser’n a 
baby ! ” 

Jessie hastened to soothe his hurt. “ Never 
mind,” she said, with a winning smile ; “ I 
have some string in my own pocket. My 
tatting- work is always there, and that thread 
is better suited for flowers. I suppose yours is 
regular twine ; boys always have such strong, 
thick string ! It is girls who never get over 
being babies.” 

Paul replied only with a grunt, but she saw 
he was softened, and she hastened to apply 
to him for information. 

“ How many bouquets do you think I shall 
need ? Do you know how many people there 
are in this ward ? ” 

“Twenty-three now; there were twenty- 
five. Two poor wretches were carried out 
yesterday. Died in the night, an’ I heard 
their groans. Jolly place this is to be sick 
in, an’ no mistake.” 


A NEW FRIEND. 


147 


Jessie turned pale in spite of herself. 
How dreadful, indeed, it must have been, 
to lie there helpless, bound hand and foot, in 
the awful stillness of the night, and listen 
to the dying groans of one’s fellow-suf- 
ferers ! How could she bear it herself, she 
who, if only her little head ached, had her 
own dear home-room, and her loving mother 
to guard her from every troubling sound? 
Oh, it must be hard ! And yet Jessie felt 
she must make Paul think the best that was 
possible. 

“ Poor fellows ! ” she said, in a voice full of 
pity. “I hope they have gone to a better 
home. And, poor Paul, I know it must 
have been dreadful for you ; but yet it is so 
much better here than even in some homes ! 
Only think how some poor creatures have to 
die, without bed or food or medicine, or any- 
thing ; and here, at least, you have care and 
comfort, and a great clean and airy room. 
It’s going to be beautiful too, now, Paul, 
for I have tied up bunches enough, and I ’m 
going to take them round to the people. I 
only hope they ’ll giye them some pleasant 
thoughts I 

She rose from her seat, and took up the 


148 THE FEOWER-MISSTON. 

basket in wliich sbe had placed the bouquets 
as she finished each one. “ I sha’n’t be gone 
but a little while, and in the meantime here 
is your blanc-mange. Do you think you 
could manage to feed yourself, or would you 
rather wait till I come back ? ” 

“Oh, I’ll wait; but don’t be long,” was 
the answer, given with a gruff shyness ; and 
he followed with a wistful impatience the 
light little figure as it crossed over to the 
cot opposite his own. 

A man lay there with his head bandaged 
up in thick white cloths. He had been bru- 
tally clubbed by a policeman, and his wdts 
were wandering most of the time. But he 
seemed conscious now, and for the last half 
hour his bloodshot eyes had been watching 
Jessie busied with her flowers. He smiled a 
ghastly smile, and held out his hand eagerly 
for the bunch of roses and sweet-scented myr- 
tle which Jessie offered him. 

“ Thank’y, Miss, an’ God bless ye for think- 
in’ av a poor fellow like me ! ” Paul heard 
him say; and Jessie answered with softest 
pity, “God bless you, poor man, and help 
you soon to get well ! ” 

She had no time that day to linger, and 


A NEW FRIEND. 


149 


she moved on quietly from one sad couch to 
another, leaving by each one a fragrant offer- 
ing, and a word of kind and earnest sympa- 
thy. She did not feel embarrassed, though 
she knew she was followed by wondering 
looks ; she had no thought of herself at all, 
only to be glad that she could bring a little 
pleasant change to those weary eyes, and per- 
haps comfort some bitter spirit with the 
thought that it was not all neglected and 
uncared for. Everywhere she met welcom- 
ing and grateful looks. From each bed of 
pain was put forth an eager hand to grasp 
the lovely, gracious offering. There are few 
hearts in all this strange world of ours, so 
hard and cold, that they do not soften at 
the sight and scent of flowers; they bring 
with them a memory of that far-away child- 
hood in which those hearts were neither 
hard nor cold ; and there was not one of 
these poor sick men, coarse and rough as 
most of them were, sick and suffering as 
they all were, who refused the gentle and 
lovely gift. 

A soft breath of perfume floated through 
the room, and a murmur of pleasure was 
borne along with it, as the little maiden 
13 * 


150 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


passed between the long rows of cots, leav- 
ing everywhere her fragrant tokens and her 
soothing words. 

The newsboy’s grim face softened as he 
heard the sound. 

“ She is a good one, an’ they ’ve found it 
out, those other fellows. But she b’longs to 
me most of all. Oh, and here she is back ! ” 
he added aloud, as the sweet face appeared 
again at his side. 

“Yes. I wasn’t long, was I?” she said. 
“ And those poor creatures, they did like to 
have the flowers so much ! How glad I am, 
and how pleased Mrs. Eussell will be when I 
tell her! And now I shall give you your 
blanc-mange. You must be hungry, poor 
boy, by this time.” 

She lifted the cover from her little basket, 
and proceeded to offer him the delicate re- 
freshment. He suffered her to feed him like 
a child, and showed his appreciation by eating 
it all ; but he was too uncomfortable to feel 
like saying much, and betrayed his pain by 
an incessant nervous restlessness. 

“ Don’t mind me, please,” he said presently, 
noticing the sorrowful sympathy in her eyes 
as she watched his face distorted with suffer- 


A NEW FRIEND. 


151 


ing. “I’m ashamed o’ bein’ such a baby; 
but this old leg and arm — they do both hurt 
so! Seems to me as if I must twist ’em 
outen the fastening, an’ yet I ’ve got to lie 
still an’ let the pins an’ needles jest work in 
an’ outen ’em 1 ” 

“ Poor boy 1 it must be dreadful 1 I think 
you ought to have something to quiet the 
pain. Let me go and ask one of the nurses 
to come 1 ” 

He answered with a grimace, — 

“No; I don’t want none o’ their drops; 
much obliged to you all the same. They put 
me to sleep, but I allers wake up with such a 
bad feelin’ in my head. Oh, I do want to go 
to sleep though, I ’m so tired ! ” He heaved 
a long and weary sigh, and Jessie’s soft eyes 
filled with tears. 

“Is there anything in the world I can do 
to help you ? ” she asked, pitifully ; and the 
boy said abruptly, as if with a sudden recol- 
lection, — 

“Yes, there is, you can sing to me. I 
remember now, when I was a little chap, an’ 
had a fever an’ could n’t go to sleep o’ nights, 
my mother used to hold me in her arms an’ 
rock an’ sing till I jest dropped off, oh, so 


152 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

soft an’ sweet, an’ forgot all about the pain 
in my head. That was before she got to 
thinking me so bad.” 

His face darkened for a moment; then he 
shook off the thought, and added, wistfully, — 

“You sing to me now, won’t you, please; 
an’ maybe I can drop off the same old way ! ” 

Jessie had started when he, first spoke of 
it, and now she colored and was silent with 
embarrassment. How could she have the 
courage to trust her voice aloud in that great 
room, where were so many sick people, and 
visitors and doctors likely to come in any 
minute? Would it not, maybe, disturb some 
of the others ? She wished so much he had 
not asked her, and she felt as if she must 
make an excuse. But she looked again at 
the pain-drawn face turned waitingly towards 
hers, and she put by at once all thought of 
herself. 

“ Yes, I will try,” she said, gently. “ What 
shall I sing ? ” 

“ Oh, anything you choose. My mother used 
to sing 

‘Sclilaf wolil, kindlein mein,’ 
and sometimes 

‘ Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott.’ 


A NEW FRIEND. 153 

But I forgot ; you won’t know those. Never 
mind ; sing anything, only begin.” 

“ Why, that sounds like German,” thought 
Jessie, wondering; but an impatient groan re- 
called her thoughts, and she began at once, 

“Tarry with me, O my Saviour, 

For the day is passing by; 

Swift the shades of evening gather, 

And the night is drawing nigh.” 

The melody was as simple and sweet as the 
words. Jessie had a clear and tuneful little 
voice; she sang softly, so that the sound 
reached scarcely beyond the ear for which it 
was meant ; and the musical, gentle notes fell 
soothingly on the poor boy’s tortured nerves. 
But that was not enough. When she had fin- 
ished, he gave a nervous twitch, and said, with- 
out opening his eyes, “Please, don’t stop;” 
and Jessie sang again, 

“Softly now the light of day.” 

She glided from that into 

“Fading, still fading,” 

and meanwhile the lines smoothed out in the 
drawn face, the restless movements were stilled, 
the breath came slow and hard, but evenly. 
Before she had ended, poor Paul was asleep ! 


CHAPTER X. 

A LITTLE NIGHTINGALE. 

J ESSIE watched him for a few moments, 
holding her breath, to see if he was really 
asleep ; then, with a deep sigh of gratification, 
she rose noiselessly, and began to gather up 
her things to go home. 

“Poor boy! good-night!” she said, half 
aloud, giving him a last compassionate glance. 
“God grant it may be good all through!” 
and turned to leave, but stopped suddenly, 
and remained standing, while a flush of em- 
barrassment stained her fair face. A tall 
gentleman, in a dark suit and with a glossy 
silk hat in his hand, was standing near the 
cot, just in her path, and looking down at 
her with an odd smile. He had evidently 
been listening to her singing, and been stand- 
ing there she did not know how long. The 
color deepened painfully in her face, and he 
looked amused, and said, speaking carefully 
in a low voice, — 


154 


A LITTLE NIGHTINGALE. 155 


“ So you are taking my business out of my 
hands, are you, young lady? Putting my 
patients to sleep without their medicine ? ” 

Jessie looked up with a startled glance. 
Had she done wrong ? 

“ But he wanted to go to sleep so much,” 
she pleaded, lifting her eyes to his face. 

The doctor had not the heart to tease her 
any longer. 

“Yes, of course he did,” he said, cordially; 
“ it was the best thing for him to do. It was 
very nice and kind of you, too. Your pretty 
hymns were very sweet and soothing. I 
would n’t mind having you always, as a little 
assistant, to help me quiet my nervous pa- 
tients.” 

Jessie colored again with rare pleasure. 
“ I ’m so glad,” she said. “ Poor fellow! it is 
so hard for him 1 W on’t he ever be able to 
walk again, doctor? ” she ventured to ask, in 
her pitying tone. 

“Never again without help,” replied the 
doctor, looking compassionately at the sleep- 
ing boy. “ But he is getting on finely. lie is 
a sturdy little chap, and will be able to get 
about pretty well with a crutch. If- he could 
manage to get an artificial leg, I shouldn’t 


156 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 




wonder if he ’d be almost as active as before. 
They Ve brought those things to such perfec- 
tion, you know. But then, of course, they 
are very expensive.” 

Jessie’s face had brightened eagerly at the 
words “ almost as active as before,” but it fell 
again at “very expensive.” Poor Paul! poor 
friendless little waif! Who would be likely 
to give him anything “very expensive”? 
Only she would, if she could. 

“ I suppose they do cost a great deal,” she 
said, wistfully ; and the doctor answered, — 

“ Not ‘a great deal,’ but a good deal. More 
than your little protege would be likely to 
raise, I fear. Never mind,” seeing the look 
of concern on the sweet young face; “you 
are doing him a great deal of good. I have 
great faith in the beneficial effect of flowers 
and music, and especially of sympathy, upon 
the poor, who have so little of such things in 
their lives. It encourages them to try to get 
well, and take up their burden bravely again, 
when they see there is some one who cares 
a little for them. I wish there were more 
good Samaritans like you; or, perhaps, I 
should call you a little Florence Nightingale, 
you have such a sweet little voice.” 


A LITTLE NIGHTINGALE. 157 

He smiled pleasantly, and added, “ But I 
must make my rounds. Come again to-mor- 
row, if you can, and put your patient to sleep. 
He ’ll have rather a trying time for the next 
few days.” 

He nodded good-by with another kind 
smile, as he moved away, and Jessie gathered 
up her baskets, and with a last glance at Paul, 
who was still sleeping quietly, slipped softly 
out and started for home. 

She was later than she had expected to be, 
and her mother and Eoddy had finished their 
supper when she reached home. Her bread 
and milk, however, was set ready for her in 
her favorite bowl with the wild roses on it ; 
and there was some nice fresh gingerbread to 
“ top off” with. Her mother, who had won- 
dered a little at her long stay, was quite will- 
ing to excuse it, when she heard how the 
doctor had said she was really doing good; 
and was as ready as usual to hear and be 
interested in all that her little daughter had 
to tell. She shook her head, though, when 
Jessie began to try to make plans for the 
procuring of an artificial limb. 

“ A crutch may be managed, I don’t doubt,” 
she said; “or a pair, if needed; but the 
14 


158 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


other I am sure is quite beyond our reach. 
We could not buy it ourselves, and we have 
no wealthy friends to whom we could ap- 
peal. I advise you not to think any more 
about it.” 

Jessie drew a long sigh, and said no more ; 
but to think no more of what she knew 
would be such a blessing to her “ poor boy,” 
was beyond her power. The thought would 
come again and again, even after she was 
nestled in her bed. She remembered how 
often, when Christ was on earth. He had bid- 
den the lame to rise and walk ; she thought 
of the cripple who lay at the gate Beautiful, 
and how Peter and John, though they had 
neither silver nor gold, had bestowed upon 
him the more precious gift of healing ; and 
she wished with all her tender little soul 
that that time was here again, and she might 
go and beg such a boon for Paul. 

“ But God knows best ; and if He does n’t 
give him that. He will give him, if he asks it, 
the strength to bear.” This was the only 
conclusion the patient little spirit could reach, 
and she closed her eyes and composed herself 
to sleep. 

Suddenly, a ray of light seemed to flash 


A LITTLE NIGHTINGALE. 159 

upon her mind. She started from her pillow, 
and sat straight up in her bed. 

“Why, of course!” she thought, with a 
thrill of joy. “ She is the very one 1 So 
good and kind, and with plenty of money, or 
she could n’t have everything so nice around 
her. I shall ask her to-morrow. I know she 
will. And, oh, I ’m so glad God put it into my 
head 1 ” 

“ Mamma, was there ever any person named 
Florence Nightingale ? ” asked Jessie, a little 
hesitatingly, the next morning of her mother. 
She was moving lightly about, putting away 
the breakfast things, and Mrs. Lang was rest- 
ing a little in a low chair by the window, with 
Eoddy on her lap. 

“ Florence Nightingale ? ” repeated Jessie’s 
mother, in surprise. “ Why, yes, my dear ; have 
you never read of her in any of your books ? 
She was one of the noblest women that ever 
lived. A young English lady, who went out 
to the Crimea — ” 

“I know where that is, mamma,” said 
Jessie; “a peninsula that juts out from the 
south of Eussia into the Black Sea. Excuse 
me for interrupting you 1 ” 

“ Y es. W ell, she went out to the Crimea to 


160 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


nurse the wounded in a terrible war between 
England and Kussia. There was very little 
known about really good nursing in the mili- 
tary camps and hospitals ; very little under- 
standing or care about the preparation of 
food, proper ventilation, and other important 
things. The poor sick soldiers soon had cause 
to bless her coming, she was so gentle and 
kind, as well as skilful and experienced. She 
tended them with her own hands, dressed 
their wounds, fed them, wrote letters for them, 
prayed by their dying beds, and closed their 
eyes in death. There was nothing too hard 
or too low for her to do for them, and they 
looked upon her as a real angel of mercy. 
Doubtless she will have her reward, and her 
memory will be kept green in the whole 
world’s heart.” 

Mrs. Lang spoke with an unusual enthu- 
siasm, and Jessie listened with a strange in- 
terest. Ah, if only she might ever be worthy 
to be called “ a little Florence Nightingale ! ” 

Her mother did not notice ; her mind was 
full of the real woman hero. “ Give me that 
volume of poems,” she said, “which one of 
my scholars sent me at Christmas — the one 
in a green cover on the upper shelf of the 


A LITTLE NIGHTINGALE. 161 


what-not. Emma Lazarus is the author’s 
name Yes, this is it,” taking the book from 
Jessie’s hand and slowly turning over the 
leaves. 

“There is a lovely poem here — here it is 
— about Florence Nightingale. I meant to 
have read it to you when I first saw it my- 
self ; it is so simple and clear, as well as sweet, 
that you will be able to understand and enjoy 
it. I ’ll read it to you now.” 

“ Oh, do, mamma,” said Jessie, eagerly, run- 
ning to get a stool to sit on at her mother’s 
feet. “ Here, Eoddy darling, is your picture 
paper for you ; ” and when they were settled, 
Mrs. Lang began 

“Upon the whitewashed walls 
A woman’s shadow falls, 

A woman walketh o’er the darksome floors. 

A soft, angelic smile 
Lighteth her face the while 
In passing through the dismal corridors. 

“And now and then there slips 
A word from out her lips, 

More sweet and grateful to those listening ears. 
Than the most plaintive tale 
Of the sad nightingale 

Whose name and tenderness this woman bears. 
14* L 


162 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

“Her presence in the room 
Of agony and gloom 

No fretful murmurs, no coarse words profane; 

For while she standeth there 
All words are hushed save prayer; 

She seems God’s angel weeping o’er man’s pain. 

“ And some of them arise, 

With eager, tearful eyes, 

From off their couch to see her passing by. 

Some, e’en too weak for this, 

Can only stoop and kiss 
Her shadow, and fall back content to die. 

“No monument of stone 
Needs this heroic one — 

Her name is graven on each noble heart; 

And in all after years 
Her praise will be the tears 
• Which at that name from quivering lids will start. 

“And those who live not now 
To see the sainted brow 
And the angelic smile before it flits for aye, 

They in the future age 
Will kiss the storied page 
Whereon the shadow of her life will lie.” 

Mrs. Lang read the tender lines in a clear, 
low voice, full of earnest feeling, and Jessie 
listened, with all her heart in her eyes. 

“ It is lovely, mamma,” she said, when it was 
ended. “Thank you ever -so much for read- 




A LITTLE NIGHTINGALE. 163 

ing it to me. I should like to learn it for 
my next school recitation. There are so many 
pieces, every Friday, about battles and all sorts 
of terrible deeds ; and I do hate the very idea 
of war! I can’t see why it ’s any better or any 
grander for whole armies to meet and kill each 
other, than for just two men to meet and fight 
each other to death. They all think their cause 
is right, but it don’t seem to me that ’s the right 
way to settle it 1 Anyhow, I ’d rather recite 
something about healing the wounds than 
about making them. The girls rattle off so 
about how 

‘Cannon to right of them. 

Cannon to left* of them, 

Volleyed and thundered;’ 

but it makes me shudder, only to think of 
the great iron balls going whizzing among 
the ranks, crashing and shattering and tearing 
and bruising and killing, and sending so many 
great strong men, before they can think, to a 
horrible death 1 ” 

She stopped a moment, quite pale with ex- 
citement. 

“ And then, half the time, as I ’ve learned 
in my history, the cause for which they fought 
isn’t settled after all, and all the blood has 


164 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

been shed for nothing ! Oh, I shall be glad, 
won’t yon, mother, when there are no more 
wars nor rumors of wars ? When that happy 
time comes, when the people will beat their 
swords into ploughshares, and their spears 
into pruning-hooks, and everybody all over 
the world will love God, and be good and be 
happy! But if there have got to be wars 
a while longer, I think I should like, when I 
am a woman, to be a nurse, like Florence 
Nightingale, and go and help take care of the 
poor, wounded soldiers. W ould you mind if 
I took that for my work, mamma ? ” 

Mrs. Lang looked tenderly at her little 
girl’s eager face. She knew that the young 
soul was as sincere as it was ardent, and she 
loved to hear her pour out her earnest and 
noble thoughts, as she sometimes did when 
alone with her, with a rare fervor of childish 
.eloq^uence. She bent over now and kissed 
her fondly, saying, with a smile, — 

“Those are grave matters you have pro- 
pounded, my dear, and I shall have to give 
them a great deal of consideration. Mean- 
while, I think it is a good idea for you to 
learn the poem and recite it. It may suggest 
to some one, who has never thought of it, that 


A LITTLE NIGHTINGALE. 165 


there is a nobler heroism to be found, some- 
times, in humble places than that which is 
displayed on the field of battle, and which 
is often not real courage at all, but only 
the blind fury of. men excited to madness 
by the shouts of their commanders, the blare 
of trumpets, the whistling of bullets, and roar- 
ing of cannon. The Bible says '‘He that is 
slow to anger is better than the mighty; and 
he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh 
a city,’ (Prov. xvi. ’32); and one must have 
one’s spirit in thorough training before hop- 
ing to make a good hospital nurse. I will 
give you that thought to ponder over your- 
self, my dear ; but now it is time to get ready 
for church.” 

Jessie heaved a little sigh as she rose to 
obey : she remembered yesterday morning, 
and wondered if she would ever have her 
spirit “ in thorough training.” But then she 
remembered, also, how she had conquered in 
the end, and the promise came to her mind, 
“ To him that overcometh, will I give to eat 
of the tree of life,” (Rev. ii. 7 ; ) and she 
started off with her mother and little brother 
to church, her mind already prepared, by the 
sweet home talk, for the sacred services. . 


CHAPTER XI. 

SONGS IN THE NIGHT, 

I SHA’LL stop on my way and ask Mrs. 

Russell if she will go with me to-day, 
mamma, if you have no objection,” said Jessie 
that afternoon, as she was starting off on her 
errand of mercy. “I haven’t anything to 
take to my poor boy, for I did n’t think of 
going till the doctor spoke of it ; and she said 
she would have her basket put up yesterday. ■ 
Poor fellows ! I know they ’ll be glad to get 
something nice, and have some one to speak 
to them. I expect Sunday is the hardest day 
of all to them, now they are sick, and because 
it used to be their pleasantest, you know, with 
no work to do, and a chance to rest ! ” 

“ My thoughtful little girl,” said her mother, 
fondly. “ Of course I have no objection. I 
only hope your new friend will be able to 
go.” 

“ I wish you ’d come with me sometime, 
mamma dear. You’d know just the right 

166 


SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 


167 


things to say to poor Paul. I try, but I don’t 
make out very well.” 

“ I ’ll trust you, my dear,” rejoined her 
mother, looking at the earnest young face^ 
and remembering the words, “Out of the 
mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast per- 
fected praise.” (Matt. xxi. 16.) 

“ But I want to go, dear, to see your boy, 
and I will go some afternoon this week, when 
I can let Roddy stay with Mrs. Vogt. It 
wouldn’t do to take him, you know, and I 
have no one to leave him with to-day. But 
I promise you I will go next week.” 

“ Thank you, mamma dear ! I knew you ’d 
say ‘ Yes,’” said Jessie brightly, and the next 
moment she was out in the street. 

She found her new friend, Mrs. Russell, 
enjoying the lovely Sabbath afternoon with a 
book, under the shade of her “ own vine and 
fig-tree,” out on her broad and flower- 
wreathed piazza. She consented mllingly to 
accompany Jessie to the hospital, and sum- 
moned a little waiting-boy to go with them 
and carry the basket which she had made 
ready. She gave Jessie permission to gather 
some fresh roses while she went in to put on 
her bonnet. “Though it isn’t every little 


168 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

girl I would trust among my plants ! ” she 
said, holding up her finger, as she passed into 
the house. 

“ Why, who could have the heart to handle 
them roughly Jessie thought, as she care- 
fully broke off the clusters. 

Mrs. Eussell noticed with approval her happy 
face, and they had a very pleasant walk and 
talk together. As they went up the ground 
to the hospital, Jessie uttered a glad exclama- 
tion. 

“ Oh, there is the doctor I know, now, just 
gone up the steps ; the one that talked to me 
yesterday, I mean ! Oh, he is so nice ; and he 
will take you the rounds himself ! ” She ran 
swiftly up, to ask him to stop ; and he turned 
at the sound of her hurrying steps, and smiled 
as he recognized the little visitor of the day 
before. 

“ Ah, here is the nightingale again,” he said. 
“ I am glad you have come. Your patient had 
his best sleep yet last night. And is that 
your mother, come to look after him, too ? ” 

“ Oh, no, sir,” said Jessie, the color coming 
into her face at his welcome. “ But she is 
such a kind, good lady, doctor. She gave 
me the flowers I brought yesterday, and she 


SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 


169 


has brought a basket of fruit and jelly for 
the sick people, to-day. Will you please speak 
to her, and look at them, doctor ? ” 

“ I will with pleasure,” and as Mrs. Bussell 
reached the top of the high flight of steps, 
he came forward to meet her with a bow of 
welcome. Seeing she looked -flushed with 
walking, he invited her to rest a few moments 
on one of the seats in the vestibule, which 
offer she accepted, saying, pleasantly, “ This 
little girl is responsible for the liberty I am 
taking in bringing a few delicacies to your 
poorer patients. Perhaps you will look at 
what I have selected, and see if there is any- 
thing that might do harm.” 

The doctor bowed again. “ It is a liberty 
which I wish was oftener taken, madam,” he 
said. “ The hospital diet is good, of course, 
and nourishing, but necessarily very plain ; 
and I often wish I had something to tempt 
the appetite of some of those poor fellows in 
there, who have no stomach for our fare. 

“Ah, those look tempting, indeed,” he added, 
as, in obedience to a word from Mrs. Bussell, 
the boy took out one after another clear glass 
jars filled with rich-colored jellies, “lucent 
syrups,” and the jams and marmalades that 
15 


170 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


give sucli a flavor to the tasteless “sick- 
messes.” 

“ How very kind and liberal you have been, 
madam ! These are a treasure-trove, indeed ; 
there is nothing here but what will be both 
refreshing and nourishing. You evidently 
know what is good for the sick, madam. I 
will send some one at once to take charge of 
the bulk of these and see that they are put 
in a proper place ; but I hope you will allow 
me to take one of these jars — the black- 
berries, say — and come with me yourself to 
see how some of the poor feverish mouths 
will relish your refreshing gift.” 

Mrs. Eussell rose at once, looking greatly 
pleased. ^ 

“ How glad I am I brought them,” she 
said, as simply as Jessie could have said it. 
“But it is all this dear little girl’s doing. 
I confess with shame I should never have 
thought of it myself.” 

The doctor smiled kindly back at Jessie, 
who was thrilling all over with pleasure. 
“ She has certainly sowed her seed in good 
ground, madam,” he said, and then they passed 
through the entrance into the long ward and 
stood in the midst of another atmosphere — 


SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 


171 


one of pain and want and weariness and dis- 
tress. 

Everything appeared much as usual — the 
great bare whitewashed room ; the open win- 
dows; the long rows of narrow beds; the 
haggard faces upon the pillows ; the sorrow- 
ful monotone of moans and groans, and restless 
tossings, and heart-broken sighs. 

Mrs. Eussell stopped short, and looked 
mutely round with a face of awe. It was all 
new and strange to her, and to her kindly 
heart it seemed so pitiful ! 

“Poor fellows! poor, poor fellows!” she 
said, under her breath. “ So much suffering 
almost at my door, and I with every comfort, 
and never thought of trying to relieve it ! ” 
“Well, well!” she added, recovering her- 
self quickly. “ I ’m not going to cry after 
time lost, but I ’m going to try to make up 
for it in the future. Come, doctor, do send 
for a spoon and a saucer, and let me give 
some berries right away to this poor fellow 
here. They ’re only canned, you know, not 
made sickly-sweet with sugar, and they are 
almost as refreshing as the new fruit. Do 
you feel very bad to-day, my man ? ” said she, 
bending down and speaking gently to a hoi- 


172 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

low-ejed, gaunt-looking figure on the cot 
nearest to her. “ What is the trouble ? How 
did you get hurt ? ” 

Jessie, seeing her absorbed in the story the 
man began to tell her, and conscious of her 
“poor boy’s” eyes following her impatiently, 
slipped away, and went lightly over to Paul’s 
corner. 

“ Y ou are better to-day ! ” she said at once. 
“ Oh, I ’m so glad ! ” 

“ It ’s you that ’s got the right to be glad,” 
answered the boy, a bright look coming into 
his face. “ For it ’s you made me better wi’ 
the nice sleep you give me. I didn’t expect 
you ’d come to-day, an’ I most hollered out 
when I see you a coming in at the door ! ” 

“I saw how surprised you looked,” said 
Jessie, with a soft, little laugh. “But I 
could n’t come just at first, you know. That ’s 
the lady who gave me all those flowers, and 
she let me gather these roses to-day. 5 ’m 
going to t^ke them home to my mother, for 
those I brought here yesterday are all fresh, 
still, I see ; but I shall give you just one to 
hold and smell, they are so sweet! And 
is n’t she kind ? ” 

Paul evidently found it delicious. He an- 


SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 


173 


swered, nevertheless, in a tone which showed 
the matter was quite settled in his own mind : 

“ There ain’t nobody as kind as you ; not 
to me, anyhow. An’ some o’ these days I ’m 
goin’ to deserve it.” 

“ Are you, Paul ? I’m glad of that,” said 
Jessie, gently, wondering what new feeling 
was working in him. 

“Yes, I am,” said the boy, speaking out, 
though with an effort. “ I was n’t sleeping 
all night long. Every now and then I ’d be 
awake for awhile, and then, somehow, I 
was n’t thinkin’ all the old ugly thoughts 
that used to come into my head in the night- 
time. I was . thinkin’ of you, and of them 
sweet hymns you sung, an’ of all the good 
words you’ve told me about Jesus, an’ how 
He cares about even a poor, no-account chap 
like me. Anybody can see you love Him just 
as if He was a real live friend ; an’ I want Him 
for my friend, too. Only I don’t feel as if I 
ever could be fit ! I see now how bad I have 
been ! ” 

A thrill of grateful joy ran through Jes- 
sie’s heart at these words. They were spoken 
bluntly, awkwardly, but so sincerely ! 

“ Oh, Paul ! ” she cried, softly, and then she 
15 * 


174 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


breathed a prayer that God would help her 
to say just what he most needed, and could 
bear at that time. 

“ He is a live friend — the very best and 
truest anybody can have. He isd)etter than 
even father or mother, because He can help 
us in our own hearts, and make us want to 
lead good lives. For his sake, God sends his 
Holy Spirit into our hearts, instead of our own 
bad, selfish spirits, and makes us fit to be 
Christ’s friends. Of course, we never could 
be fit of ourselves ! Oh, I am so glad you ’ve 
come to wish it ! I don’t believe any one is 
ever really happy unless in his heart he loves 
Jesus ! ” 

The very “joy of believing ” shone in the 
child’s face, as she uttered her eager, simple 
words; and the boy looked at her with a 
wistful gaze. 

“ It ’ll take a deal to make me fit,” he said, 
doubtfully ; and she answered with the firm 
assurance of faith, “ But God will do it, if you 
only ask Him with all your heart. Why, 
Paul, that is your best hope, that you know 
yourself, now, that you ’re not good. There ’s 
such a sweet, old-fashioned hymn my mother 
sings sometimes: 


SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 


175 


Not. the righteous, not the righteous, 

Sinners Jesus came to call!’ 

“It is just the ones who feel they need help 
that He loves to help ! But I shall ask Mr. 
Chester to come and talk to you, Paul. He 
can make all these things so much plainer to 
you than I can, and he is such a good, kind 
minister. You need not be in the least afraid 
of him. You will like t.o have him come, 
won’t you, Paul ? ” 

“ He ’s the one that first put it into your 
head to come here, was n’t he?” asked Paul. 
“ I thank him for that. It was more of a 
kindness than he knew ; an’ I ’ll see him, of 
course, if he takes the trouble to come. But 
it ’s you that ’s made me want to try to be 
good ! ” 

“ And it is she who has made others want 
to be good,” sounded a pleasant voice close 
by, and there was Mrs. Kussell at Jessie’s side. 

“ So this is your patient, is it, my dear ? 
Poor fellow, he looks as if he had had a hard 
time indeed ! But you ’re better to-day, the 
doctor tells me ? ” 

“Yes’m, I s’pose I am,” said Paul, hesi- 
tatingly. 

“ But the better is bad enough, you think. 


176 


THE FLOWER- MISSION. 


And so it is, as I know myself. I kad an 
arm broken, when I was a child, by a fall from 
a swing, and I can remember how it prickled 
and burned when the bones were beginning 
to knit. But that was the worst of it. I 
began to get well after that, and you ’ll find 
yourself up before you know it; so keep a 
good heart.” 

The cheerful tone was like a cordial. Paul 
brightened visibly, and the good lady went on: 

“ I ’ve brought you a saucer of my black- 
berries to try. The way those poor fellows 
have enjoyed them, my dear,” turning to 
Jessie, and lifting up her eyes. “Well, it has 
done my heart good. I ’ve been all round 
with the doctor, and we ’ve used up two cans. 
But they ’re welcome to them, and to all they 
can eat. What pleasure I shall take in put- 
ting up fruit this summer! But now come 
and try these. Let your little nurse feed you 
— they ’ll taste better.” 

Paul l^ked rather sheepish, and Jessie 
laughed ^t softly as she took the saucer in 
her hand. She would have liked to throw 
her arms round Mrs. Bussell and' kiss her for 
being so “nice.” 

That lady, meanwhile, sat back in her chair, 


SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 177 

fanning herself, and looking on approvingly 
while the sick boy enjoyed her cool, juicy 
fruit. Then presently, seeing the doctor com- 
ing up the room, she got up and said, — 

“ I have one or two things I want to talk 
to him about, my dear. I think I ’ll go out 
in the lobby awhile, and you can stay with 
your boy till I come and call you.” 

Jessie smiled a “ very well,” and her “ boy ” 
pleaded at once, “ And you will sing to me a lit- 
tle before you go ? Then I shall have good 
sleep and good thoughts again to-night.” 

“Yes, I will sing,” said Jessie, in her sim- 
ple way.' “ I ’ll sing you the hymn I told you 
about — 

‘ Come, ye sinners, poor and needy.’ ” 

“Oh, thank you! You are so good to 
me I ” said Paul, fervently, settling himself 
upon his pillows; and Jessie presently began 
to sing, low and soft, as she had done the 
evening before. 

But though she sang so soft and low, her 
childish voice had a clear, tuneful ring to it, 
and the sweet notes floated out through the 
room and reached other ears and hearts than 
Paul’s. 

As she paused a moment at the end of the 
M 


178 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


first verse, one of the nurses, who had been 
busy some distance off* came up and said, re- 
spectfully : 

“ W ould you mind singing a little louder. 
Miss ? There ’s some of the patients wanted 
me to ask you. They feel kind of restless 
with the pain, and they think perhaps it 
would quiet ’em like.” 

Jessie started, and colored with timidity. 
“ The doctor — ” she began. 

“ Oh, he ’d be glad of anything that would 
soothe ’em. And he ’s right outside with the 
lady, there. It would be very kind of you, 
Miss, I ’m sure ; and it ’s a nice sweet voice 
you ’ve got of your own.” 

“ Very well ; I will sing louder,” said Jessie, 
in her old simple way. With an effort she 
put aside her childlike shyness, and, taking 
up again the broken strain, she raised her 
voice so that all might hear. 

The hymn was, as Jessie had said, an “ old- 
fashioned ” one, and almost quaint in its plain- 
ness; but the words were full of a rugged 
warmth and earnestness, and the tune which 
belonged to them had an appealing strain 
which went directly to the hearts of the poor 
forlorn creatures who listened to it. 


SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 179 

“Come, ye sinners, poor and needy, 

Weak and wounded, sick and sore: 

Jesus ready stands to help you, 

Full of pity, love, and power. 

He is able, he is willing: doubt no more.” 

Clear and sweet the childish tones swelled 
out through the hushed and darkening room ; 
each weary sufferer, tired of his own dull 
thoughts, held himself still to listen. They 
could understand such words as these ; they 
seemed, even to those who had no thought of 
their souls, to fit their bruised and aching 
bodies, and they came with a comforting 
sense, which was some preparation for better 
things by and by, when they should be able 
to feel them. Meanwhile, it was something 
to have the power to soothe their weary pain, 
and thus make those rough and careless men 
willing even to hear the name of Jesus. 
Jessie felt glad and grateful when she saw 
how still they kept to listen, suppressing even 
their dreary groans ; and she could read their 
thanks in the eager glances which were sent 
towards her from hollow, or glassy, or feverish 
eyes. 

There was a murmur of movement and 
voices as the hymn was ended. 


180 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


“ Ah, that sounded good ! ” said some, 
giving vent to the long sigh of pain which 
for awhile had let itself be forgotten; and 
others motioned to the nurses, and begged 
that the singer would not stop. 

“ Ask her if she can sing ‘ When I can read 
my title clear ’ ? ” whispered hoarsely an old 
gray-headed man, whose limbs had been 
crushed by a falling wall, and who had but a 
few brief days to live. “ That ’s an old, old 
tune,” he went on, struggling to speak so as 
to be understood. “ My mother used to sing it 
Sabber-day afternoons, way out in the back 
woods o’ Pennsylvany ; an’ it tells about the 
kind o’ rest I ’m a longin’ to git. 

‘There I shall bathe my weary soul 
In seas of heavenly rest; 

And not a wave of trouble roll 
Across my peaceful breast.’ 

An’ then it goes on, so happy like, 

‘ Oh, that ’ll be joyful, 

When we shall meet 
At Jesus’ feet, 

Shall meet to part no more ! ’ 

“ My old mother ’s there, an’ I ’m a goin’ 


SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 


181 


to jine her. I ’d like to hear that tune just 
once more.” 

The old man lay near where Jessie sat. 
She had risen and gone to the side of his cot, 
when, she heard him trying to speak aloud. 
Tears sprang to her eyes as she stood and 
looked at him ; the weather-beaten old face, 
roughened by time and hard work, drawn 
now with terrible suffering, and marked with 
the shadow of slow-coming death, yet soft- 
ened into almost child-like tenderness and 
eagerness at the memory of his “old mother” 
and the thought of soon meeting her again ! 
Jessie was so glad she knew the quaint old 
hymn, with its jubilant refrain — 

“ Oh, that ’ll be joyful, joyful! ” 

“Yes, indeed, I will sing it,” she said, 
warmly ; and she began at once, putting all 
the tender earnestness of her soul into the 
strain. 

“ Thank’y, little lady, an’ God bless ye,” 
said the old man, when she had finisbed. “ I 
shall die the easier for bearin’ that.” 

Jessie could not trust herself to speak. She 
took out a rose from the bunch she still held, 
and placed it in the withered fingers; then 
16 


182 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

turned to go back to Paul’s side. A hand 
was put out to detain her as she passed. She 
stopped, and met the gaze of a pair of dark, 
eager eyes that looked out from a mass of 
bandages. They belonged to a gallant young 
fireman, who had been horribly burned while 
nobly doing his duty ; but they still shone 
full of spirit and will. 

“ Excuse me. Miss, but, if you ain’t tired, 
would you mind givin’ us the ‘ Ninety and 
Nine ’ ? I heard it one night at McAuley’s 
Mission, where me and some other fellows 
went to have some fun. It stuck in my head, 
and I could n’t get it out ; but I would n’t pay 
any attention to it — I had too many other 
jobs on hand. Well! I’ve done my last 
job now for awhile, I guess.” He drew his 
breath hard, but went on in a moment, “And 
now I ’ve got time to attend to that. Guess 
maybe that ’s what I was laid up for. I think 
it would help me to hear those words sung 
just once more.” 

The beautiful hymn of the revivalist singer 
was very familiar in all circles just then, and 
Jessie was able once more to give help and 
comfort. Paul, too, listened earnestly to this 
last sweet strain. 


SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 


183 


“ That ’s me — the sheep that went astray,” 
he said, sorrowfully; and Jessie answered 
brightly : 

“Yes; but the Good Shepherd will bring 
you back ; and you will love Him so, you ’ll 
never wander again.” 

He made no reply, but lay still with a 
troubled look on his face. Jessie was quiet, 
too, for awhile, and prayed silently in her 
heart. 

Presently she said, “You look pale, Paul, 
and tired out. Don’t you think you could go 
to sleep now if you tried ? ” 

The boy sighed wearily. “Maybe so, if 
you sit right by me, and sing somethin’ soft 
an’ soothin,’ like as you did last night. It ’s 
gettin’ tow’rds dark, an’ I am tired.” 

So Jessie sat down close by his cot, and he 
settled himself upon his pillow and closed 
his eyes. The little girl thought a moment, 
and then chose the exquisite evening hymn 
of Lyte, which was one of her mother’s 
choicest favorites : 

“Abide with me; fast falls the eventide; 

The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide: 
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee. 
Help of the helpless, O abide with me ! ’’ 


184 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

It was a solemn and touching scene. The 
great room was already growing dim with the 
shadows of coming evening; the last beams 
of the setting sun fell red and slanting across 
the narrow beds ; the breath of roses scented 
the cool dusk. A hushed and holy stillness 
brooded around ; and through the dim silence 
flowed the clear strain of the pure young 
voice, as ripples a streamlet through a shaded 
wood. 

“Come not in terrors, as the King of kings; 

But kind and good, with healing in thy wings; 

Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea; 

Come, Friend of sinners, and thus bide with me!” 

Softly and sweetly came the flow of prayer- 
ful song, and tenderly it fell upon hearts weary 
with pain and trouble — soothing some to the 
rest so much needed, comforting others with 
the thought that there was pity and care even 
for them, surrounding all with a purer at- 
mosphere. 

Jessie’s glance rested gently on Paul’s pale 
face, as she sang. She saw the troubled lines 
smooth out one by one ; a warmer hue colored 
the sallow cheek ; the breath came deeper and 
at- longer intervals. Before she had finished 


SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 


185 


her even-song, the poor crippled newsboy was 
once more a child in his mother’s arms, once 
more the troubled spirit had found peace in 
sleep. 

“ Thank God ! ” murmured the child to 
herself ; then sending a last glance of pity and 
tenderness round the darkening room, she si- 
lently passed out into the hall. 

She found her friend awaiting her there. 
The doctor was just bidding her good-even- 
ing. “Good-by, little Nightingale,” he said 
kindly, as Jessie came out. Mrs. Kussell took 
her hand and hurried her down the steps. 

16 * 


CHAPTER XIL 

A WISH GRANTED. 

* 

M rs. RUSSELL did not speak a word till 
they, had got out into the street; then 
suddenly she said, squeezing tight the little 
hand she still held, — 

“You are a dear child, and I do not want 
to get rid of you just yet. You must come 
home with me and take your tea. I want to 
talk to you. I ’ll send a message to your 
mother. She won’t mind, will she, when she 
.knows you are with me ? ” 

Jessie colored with glad surprise and pleas- 
ure. 

“ Oh, no, ma’am, she would n’t mind, I ’m 
sure ; but — ” 

“No ‘huts’ at all then. I tell you I want 
to talk to you this evening. My heart is 
full, and it ’s your doing. Here, Charles, come 
here a moment; ” she turned to the lad who 
was following them wRh the empty basket. 
“Go to the address this young lady will give 

186 


A WISH GRANTED. 


187 


you, and ask her mamma if she will kindly 
permit her to remain an hour or two with 
Mrs. Eussell this evening. She shall be at- 
tended home at half-past eight.” 

It was a little overwhelming, all this for- 
mality, and Jessie remembered with some em- 
barrassment that her “ address ” was the third 
floor of a very plain “Apartment House.” 
But with this thought came another, that no 
more perfect lady could be found than her 
own sweet mother; and, anyhow, what had 
poverty or riches to do with the kind liking 
Mrs. Eussell evidently felt for herself? 

So she gave the direction in her own simple 
way, and then yielded herself to the enjoy- 
ment of her unexpected pleasure, all the more 
enjoyable because it promised an unexpected 
opportunity, likewise, for something that was 
very near her heart! 

It seemed a very “funny” thing, as the 
children say, but a very nice thing, too, to 
little Jessie Lang, to be walking in, an hon- 
ored guest, through the gate where she had 
stopped and gazed in delight, a timid little 
stranger, a few days before. And funnier 
and nicer still, to cross that broad piazza, 
overhung with purple wistaria clusters, and 


188 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


edged with boxes of curious fan-leaved plants, 
and find herself really within the house which, 
from without, had seemed to her the very 
House Beautiful itself. 

It proved no less charming than she had 
imagined it, for Jessie was familiar with, plain 
homes only; and to her simple eyes these 
ample parlors, with their panelled walls and 
ornamented ceilings, their windows draped 
with lace and damask, and floors carpeted 
with velvet thick as moss, appeared quite 
palatial. 

Moreover, there was something besides 
mere upholstery in these rooms. Mrs. Bus- 
sell’s husband had been a merchant-captain, 
and sailed in his own vessels to foreign parts. 
Mrs. Bussell herself had twice made the 
voyage to China with him, and they had 
brought back all manner of curious and beau- 
tiful things, in the making of which those 
strange people excel. Tables exquisitely in- 
laid with rare woods ; boxes of carved ebony 
and ivory ; sandal-wood screens, framing 
squares of brilliantly-painted silk ; great 
china jars, almost big enough for Jessie to 
hide in ; and racks filled with plates of the 
most wonderful porcelain. There were books 


A WISH GRANTED. 


189 


besides, and pictures in massive frames of 
gilt, and flowers everywhere — in stands at 
the windows, in pots on the hearth, in Jap- 
anese vases, and Indian bowls. Altogether, 
everything seemed most beautiful to Jessie, 
and she looked about her with undisguised ad- 
miration, as she followed her hostess through 
the long drawing-room into the library. 

Here she was bidden to lay off her things 
and amuse herself for a few minutes, while 
Mrs. Eussell left her to give some orders ; 
but she had scarcely time to notice with won- 
der the walls lined with shelves filled with 
numberless books, and think how delightful 
it would be to spend a whole day at liberty 
among them, when her hostess returned and 
invited her out to tea. 

The dining-room seemed the pleasantest of 
all. It ran across the whole width of the 
house, with three broad windows, one of which 
served also as a door, and opened upon a honey- 
suckled porch that led down into the garden 
at the back. The heavy carpets and curtains 
had disappeared with winter, and light India 
mattings and muslin draperies made it delight- 
fully cool and summery. The little round 
table in the centre looked very inviting, set 


190 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

out with the finest of linen and quaintest of' 
china ; and nothing could be more tempting 
to a child’s appetite than the crisp Vienna 
rolls in their lacquered basket, the delicate 
slices of cold chicken, the golden-yellow 
sponge-cake, and, above all, the bowl of rich,, 
ripe strawberries, “ the first of the season.” 

Jessie was a very real little girl, and she 
couldn’t help enjoying the -dainty repast, es- 
pecially when Mrs. Kussell insisted that, for 
once, she should join her in a cup of “real 
tea,” just to see how it tasted out of her funny 
Chinese teapot. Mrs. Lang did not approve 
of tea for children, as a general thing, but 
there was a very good understanding between 
this mother and daughter ; and Jessie knew 
what would be permitted to a special occa- 
sion, and at the request of such a hostess. So 
she sipped the “ grown-up ” beverage from a 
cup like an egg-shell, and enjoyed everything 
so much that Mrs. Eussell beamed upon her 
in actual delight. 

“ You don’t know how pleasant it is to 
have some one at the table,” she said, heartily. 
“ Things taste so much nicer when you have 
some one to say how nice they are, to. And 
they would taste nicer than usual anyhow, 


A WISH GRANTED. 


191 


this evening, just for the thought that those 
poor creatures up there had a bit of some- 
thing pleasant in their mouths. They shall 
never be without it again while I have it. 
Here, my dear, have some strawberries now. 
Those are a surprise to me from James, my 
old gardener. I did n’t know there were any 
ripe. I ’m so glad they happened in when 
you were here.” 

She heaped a saucer with liberal hand, and 
powdered them with sugar from a filagree 
spoon. Jessie put one in her mouth; it 
nearly filled it. 

“ Oh, how delicious they are ! ” she cried. 

Then she stopped, and looked at the crim- 
son beauties with a face that had suddenly 
grown very wistful. 

Mrs. Eussell noticed the sudden change. 

“ W ell ! why don’t you eat them then ? ” 
she asked in her odd, abrupt way. “ What 
are you thinking of? Ah ! I know. You 
are wishing that sick boy had them instead ? ” 

Jessie colored and smiled in some confu- 
sion. 

“He has to suffer so much! and I am 
well,” she said, in an appealing tone. 

“Yes; I know you are very pitiful to 


192 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


him ; though I expect he ’s been a sad little 
scamp, and deserves some of his suffering — ” 

“Oh, but he’s so sorry for it now, Mrs. 
Kussell ! ” broke in Jessie, with eager warmth. 

“ Yes ? W ell, I am glad ; and I did n’t mean 
you ought not to want him to have some 
berries. But you know, my dear, you put 
him to sleep, and it would be a pity to wake 
him to-night. Suppose you just go on and 
enjoy them yourself, and the next that ripen 
I promise that you shall have to take to him. 
Now, how will that do, little Miss Kind-heart ? ” 

Mrs. Eussell spoke, as she often did, in the 
half- teasing, kindly way that made Jessie feel 
at her ease’ with her ; and she laughed now, 
and felt her eyes moisten, too, as she answered 
warmly, — 

“It is you, I think, who deserves that 
name 1 ” 

“Go on, then, and eat your berries,” was 
the reply; and Jessie obeyed, and enjoyed 
them, too; but there was still a look of 
thought and solicitude on her honest little 
face which did not escape her hostess’ eye. 

“What is it now?” was presently de- 
manded. “You are not at your ease. Miss 
Jessie Lang. There is something on your 


A WISH GRANTED. 


193 


mind. Now stop at once, please, and tell me 
what it is.” 

Jessie smiled, bnt it was with an effort. 
She was very conscious of something on her 
mind. How she wished she had the courage 
to tell it right out ! 

“ Why, what makes you think — ” she 
began, hesitatingly ; but Mrs. Russell took the 
words out of her mouth. 

“ I don’t ‘think’ — I know. And unless 
you tell me, I shall not drink my cup of tea, 
because you ’ve made it bitter. And I always 
have a headache if I don’t drink my tea. 
Now do you want to give me a headache in 
return for my berries ? ” 

“ Oh, no, ma’am ! not for anything.” 

“ Y ery well then, begin at once, or I shall 
not taste another drop. It is something about 
that boy, I know. You want something, and 
you don’t like to ask. Why, child, you don’t 
know how glad I am that you ’ve put it into 
my head to try to be of some more use in the 
world. If it ’s anything I can do, speak right 
out ; and be quick about it, too, for my tea is 
getting cold I” 

Jessie burst into a laugh, but she was half- 
crying, too ; she was so nervous about asking, 
17 N 


194 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


and yet longed for it so mucli. With one 
great effort, she dashed ahead. 

“ I do want something with all my heart. 
I want a new leg for poor lame Paul, and I 
don’t know anybody but you who I think 
could give it to him.” 

There ! it was out at last, and Jessie sat 
quivering between fright and eagerness, while 
Mrs. Kussell repeated her words in a bewil- 
dered way. 

“ She wants a new leg for Paul, and thinks 
I could give it to him. Oh, well, I see : she 
means an artificial limb — one of those new- 
fangled things, all joints and screws, that 
walks almost as well as if it had bones and 
muscles. Ah, yes, just so ; I see, I see. And 
who put that notion into your head, may I 
ask ? ” 

“I asked the doctor if nothing coqld be 
done,” began Jessie, falteringly ; “ it ’ll be so 
hard when he has to leave the hospital. He 
can’t run around selling papers any more, and 
he’s got no friends — ” The child stopped 
here, for she could not manage her voice any 
longer. 

Mrs. Eussell took up her teacup and drained 
it. “ W ell, well ! ” she said, in a cheery tone. 


A WISH GRANTED. 


195 


“I think he has got one very good friend. 
Those things are rather expensive, I fancy ; 
bnt if I choose to gratify you, I don’t know 
but I ’ve a right to give myself a treat. So, 
now, will you go on and finish your sup- 
per?” 

Jessie sprang from her chair with a glad 
cry, and ran around to Mrs. Eussell’s side. 

“Oh, Mrs. Eussell! Do you mean it? 
What can I ever do to thank you ? But 
you won’t need any thanks; you’ll feel so 
glad yourself when you see that poor boy. 
Oh, just let me kiss you and cry a little. I 
never knew anybody so kind! ” 

She hid her face on her friend’s shoulder 
and cried her cry. She was aroused by the 
exclamation : “ Look at the sky ! ” 

Jessie turned her eyes towards the western 
windows. The sun had slowly sunk beneath 
the horizon, but the heavens were in an after- 
glow of glory. Such flaming masses of deep- 
hued clouds, gold and crimson, and purple and 
orange, trailing off into long gray wreaths; 
the skies were lighted as with a fire, and the 
earth lay bathed in the rosy flush. It seemed 
to Jessie like a vast altar. She drew a long 
breath of awe and delight, and then broke 


196 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

out involuntarily into tlie Psalmist’s utter- 
ance, — 

“‘The heavens declare the glory of God!”’ 

Mrs. Eussell pressed the small hand in hers. 
“Yes; is it not wonderful! What human 
painter would dare to try even to copy those 
colors ? ” They stood still, gazing silently 
for awhile. “I don’t think I ever saw a 
finer sunset,” she added, presently. 

“How much better you can see it here 
than from our house. It is so open here, 
almost like the country,” and Jessie glanced 
out enjoy ingly upon the pleasant scene — the 
great old garden, full of fruit and flowers ; 
the broad street at the side, dotted with villa- 
like houses, and in the distance a glimpse of 
the river, with the sails of the vessels gliding 
in and out, as if among the trees. Over all 
the rich coloring of that dying sunset. 

“ You like the country, then,” Mrs. Eussell 
said. “ Do you go gypsying usually in the 
summer ? ” 

“Oh, no; never long at a time, at least,” 
answered Jessie. “ We couldn’t afford that, 
because the rent must go on, you know. But 
we have a good many nice little trips in va- 


A WISH GRANTED. 


197 


cation. Last summer we went down to tlie 
beach three times, and stayed all day. Oh, 
such glorious baths ! And we used to take 
our lunch, and picnic in the Park. Then we 
often went, just for the trip, down on the lit- 
tle boat that lands near here. We used to 
see beautiful sunsets then, and the salt air 
made us feel so well ! ” 

Mrs. Russell smiled. “ I don’t see, then, but 
you had pretty good times,” she said. 

“ Oh, yes ! It ’s so nice to have mamma all 
day. We always enjoy our little trips. .1 
should n’t care so very much to leave home 
and go away into the country, if only we had 
a little bit of out-doors that was all our own. 
But you know we have to share our small 
back-yard with three other families, and that 
is n’t nice.” 

“No, I should think not,” assented Mrs. 
Russell, warmly; “especially for such a lit- 
tle nature-lover as you. Well, we’ll see to 
all that after this. I have plenty of out- 
doors, you see, too much for one lone person 
to keep all to herself. And I want you to 
understand that you are free to enjoy it as 
much as you like. Come up here as often as 
you can, afternoons or Saturdays, whenever 
17 * 


198 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

you have leisure. If I am at home, I shall 
like to see you, and you shall help me potter 
round among my plants. If I am not, why 
the piazza, the arbor, and the grounds will be 
here ; and I shall tell the servants that you 
are to use them at your own pleasure. So 
take my offer as freely as it is given ; bring 
your book or your work, and enjoy my out- 
doors. I know I can trust you.” 

Jessie looked at the lady with eyes where 
glad tears were springing. 

“ I don’t know what makes you so kind to 
me,” was all she could say. 

“ Don’t you ? W ell, I do, and that is enough. 
And now I am going to send you home as I 
promised I would. Tell your mother I am 
very much obliged to her for lending you to 
me, and that I am coming to thank her 
myself some day very soon. Knowing her 
daughter has made me desire to know her. 
But, unless I keep my word, she may not re- 
turn the compliment; so run off now and get 
your hat, and I ’ll call Mary to see you home. 
And here — make your soft little heart easy 
about your wonderful wish ; if the doctor 
advises it, I shall attend to it. Now kiss me 
gciod-night ! ” 


CHAPTER XIIL 

A JOYFUL SURPRISE. 

N O happier child could be found that night 
than the little girl who was presently 
nestling at her mother’s knee, pouring out 
all the story of that blissful evening. Mrs. 
Lang sympathized with it all. She was glad 
for Paul’s sake; she was thankful for Mrs. 
Russell’s kindness to Jessie; she was pleased 
to think that her little daughter had won this 
friendship for herself, by the power of her own 
sweet, childlike piety ; and she thanked God 
in her heart that, amid all her trials. He had 
given her this “ little comforting daughter.” 
It was a proud as well as a fond kiss that she 
pressed on the tired and eager face, and a 
very sweet and restful sleep that came to 
bless them both that night. 

This happy Sunday was the beginning of a 
happy week. The possession of such a com- 
forting hope for Paul made Jessie’s heart sing 
like a bird ; and the boy himself grew better 

199 


200 THE FLOWEE-MISSION. 

every way day by day. Mrs. Lang found 
time to go and see him, as she had promised 
Jessie. Mr. Chester, also, at the little girl’s 
request, went more than once, and spent an 
hour by his bedside, talking , and praying 
with him, and opening up the “ better way ” 
to the ignorant but willing soul. The rough 
little street-rover was first overwhelmed with 
amazement, then utterly subdued and soft- 
ened, by the earnest and unfailing kindness 
shown to him by these strangers, who seemed 
so far above him. 

“ Must be somethin’ in their religion that 
made ’em do it ; ’t wa’n’t nothin’ in me,” 
he said, humbly ; and it was the desire of his 
heart to attain that “ something ” for himself. 
He not only listened eagerly to all that was 
told and read to him. and to the prayers that 
were offered so earnestly for him, but he pon- 
dered all these things in his heart when he 
was alone, and put up many an humble peti- 
tion for himself. We know who has prom- 
ised, “Ask, and ye shall receive,” and Jessie 
was conscious of a wonderful change every 
time she saw him. No longer sullen, repin- 
ing, and stubborn, he seemed as humble as a 
little child, patiently waiting God’s will con- 


A JOYFUL SURPRISE. 


201 


cerning him. He grew better bodily, also, day 
by day. One afternoon, when Jessie went up 
to take Mrs. Kussell’s promised strawberries, 
she found him up and dressed, and sitting in 
the sunshine, out in the porch ! 

He was very pale yet, and weak as a child, 
and the poor, maimed leg had to be kept 
stretched out on a pillow. But the fact that 
he was really out of bed, seemed to make it 
sure that the end of the weary confinement 
was at hand ; and he was so quiet and patient, 
and full of gratitude to everybody, that Jes- 
sie’s eyes filled with happy tears, and she could 
scarcely keep her delight within bounds. 

She had to stop on her way to tell Mrs. 
Russell the news, and heard in return that she 
had had an interview with the doctor, and 
that Paul was to be furnished with as good a 
substitute for his lost limb as science had de- 
vised. This glad tidings filled her cup of joy 
to overflowing ; it rippled out all the evening 
for her mother’s benefit, and the next morn- 
ing being Saturday, and Mrs. Yogt in the 
kitchen, she had to run in there, and make 
her share it also. 

The washer-woman listened with hearty 
interest. 


202 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


“ So ! das ist wohl,” she exclaimed, when 
Jessie had told how much better Paul was, 
falling into her native language, as she often 
did when excited. 

“ Mine heart is glad for de poor boj. Und 
now what he suld have is de goot food mit 
de nourishment in it — not de sweet baby- 
stuff any more. I make some soup dis morn- 
in’ for my own dinner ; goot und strong, mit 
marigolds in it. .1 would take some of it 
to de poor boy if de little Miss say yes.” 

“With what in it, Mrs. Vogt?” broke in 
Jessie, not believing her ears. “ Marigolds, 
did you say, in soup ? ” 

“Ach, yes; why not? It gifts it de goot 
taste. Think you not like it ? Ach, but it 
do de poor boy well.” 

“Perhaps it would,” said Jessie, quickly, 
fearing to hurt the good woman’s feelings. 
“It is very kind in you to offer it,. anyhow, 
Mrs. Yogt. And maybe he would like the 
marigold flavor. I suppose it is a German 
idea. And, now I think of it, I do believe Paul 
is German, too.” 

The washer- woman turned quickly round 
upon her with the suds dripping from her 
hands. 


A JOYFUL SURPRISE. 


203 


“You say you tinks de boy is a Gher- 
man ? ” she asked, with a piercing look in 
her deep black eyes. “What for do you 
tinks so, little Miss ? ” 

“ Oh, I hardly know,” answered Jessie, half 
startled by the sudden look and tone. “ Only, 
once in awhile he comes out with a word like 
those you say sometimes — yah, wohl, or him- 
mel ! And once he told me a song his mother 
used to sing him, and it was all German 
words. I didn’t understand them, but I 
did n’t ask him anything about it, because he 
was so sick that day. Afterwards I forgot, 
because generally he speaks English as well 
as anybody else.” 

The keen look faded from the woman’s 
face. 

“ Ach, so! he do speak Inglis right?” she 
said, and then she plunged into the tub again, 
and spoke no more. 

“ How strange she is ! ” thought Jessie, a 
little uncomfortably ; “ but still she is kind, 
and I mustn’t let her think I don’t care 
about her offer.” 

“He may like the marigold soup for all 
that, Mrs. Vogt,” she said, pleasantly; “and 
you can go with me and take it this after- 


204 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

noon, if you will. I am going up about three 
o’clock ; could you be ready by that time ? ” 

The washer-woman started. She seemed 
to be rubbing the clothes like one in a dream. 
She stared at Jessie a moment in silence, and 
then the sense of her words breaking in upon 
her, she answered hastily, — 

“ Oh, yes, yes ! I will be ready by dat time ! ” 
and went back, almost violently, to her work. 

“ Poor soul ! I ’m sorry for her,” thought 
Jessie, as she went out of the kitchen to be- 
gin her own Saturday tasks. But she could 
not be sorry long that day. Somehow or 
other, her heart would sing in her bosom 
like a happy bird, and she flew about with 
broom and duster, as if keeping time to a 
merry tune. 

By noon of the day, the little home 
was shining with freshest cleanliness and 
order ; the clothes were drying in the bright 
June sunshine ; the bright little kitchen 
showed no sign of either washing or cook- 
ing. The summer-day luncheon of fresh 
bread, strawberries, and iced tea and milk, 
was eaten and cleared away ; and Jessie and 
her mother, bathed and dressed for the after- 


A JOYFUL SURPRISE. 


205 


noon, were ready for a pleasant “rest and 
read ” during the heated hours. 

Eoddy was taking a nap on the lounge^ 
and they were sitting together in their com- 
fortable low chairs, each absorbed in a de- 
lightful book, when a ring at the door-bell 
summoned Jessie back to the real world. She 
got up with a lazy little yawn, went out into 
the hall to pull the door-opener, and then 
stood a moment to see what was wanted. 

There was a soft, silken rustling and a hes- 
itating movement in the hall below, which 
brought a look of surprise and delight to 
Jessie’s waiting face. 

“ It is Mrs. Eussell ! ” she exclaimed, and 
darted down the stairs like a bird on the 
wing. 

“ Oh, I ’m so glad ! How kind you are ! 
This hot day, too ; and I ’m afraid the stairs 
will tire you so. But do come up ! mamma 
will be so pleased ! ” 

“ W ell, I thought it was too fine a day to 
stay in-doors, and perhaps we would all go up 
to your boy together,” Mrs. Eussell began, 
but she had to stop, for talking and climbing 
at once were more than she could manage. 
She was a little out of breath by the time 
18 


206 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


she had reached the third floor; but Jessie 
placed her at once in the coolest of bamboo 
chairs by the shaded parlor- window, and she 
recovered at her leisure, while the little girl 
went to call her mother. 

A single glance round the room showed 
the visitor that the person who occupied it 
possessed as much refinement, if not as much 
wedlth, as herself. All the appointments, 
though of the simplest, were in good taste and 
perfect order — the floor was covered with cool 
matting; the sofa and chairs with spotless 
linen ; and the curtains, though only of Not- 
tingham lace, fell in as fresh, pure folds as her 
own. There were no large pictures in costly 
frames upon the wall, but the few engravings 
and photographs were each chosen for some 
special beauty ; an old but sweet song lay open 
on the small, old-fashioned piano ; books and 
magazines were on the tables; a luxuriant 
ivy made a sort of bower of a niche where 
stood a rosewood desk covered with pretty 
lady-like trifles ; and on a little stand a bowl 
filled with her own sweet roses scented the 
air with their delicate fragrance. 

“No wonder the child is a little lady,” 
thought Mrs. Bussell, as she noticed all these 


A JOYFUL SURPRISE. 


207 


things ; and when she rose to meet their 
owner, who jnst then entered, holding Jessie 
by the hand, one glance at the tall, slender 
figure in its half-mourning dress, and the pale, 
serious face, both sweet and dignified, gave 
an instant conviction that she would be glad 
to have her as a friend. 

She began to talk at once in her usual 
frank fashion. Mrs. Lang, who was grateful 
for her kindness to her little daughter, was 
less reserved and retiring than usual ; so that 
the next half-hour was to Jessie, though she 
only Sat still and listened, one full of delight : 
she saw from the first a most beautiful friend- 
ship under way ! 

She left the room once for a little while to 
make some lemonade for the guest’s refresh- 
ment, and soon came back, bringing the glass 
where the ice was clinking coolly. 

Mrs. Kussell took the lemonade which Jes- 
sie offered. “It looks as fresh and spark- 
ling as your face, my dear,’-’ she said ; and then 
Master Eoddy, waking up and hearing the 
sound of voices, slipped down from the lounge, 
and came trotting in, in his little white trou- 
sers ; his cheeks flushed with sleep, and his 
curly brown hair tumbling all about his bare. 


208 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

plump shoulders. Jessie uttered a little, em- 
barrassed cry. 

“ Oh, Eoddy, to come in without your 
frock ! ” she said ; but Mrs. Eussell insisted 
that his costume was just right for that hour 
of the day, and was full of admiration of his 
baby, boyish beauty. She coaxed him to her 
lap with a share of her lemonade, and kissed 
his plump cheeks and shoulders, and asked 
him how he would like to come some day 
and have a ride on the back of her big New- 
foundland, Bruno, who was just as gentle as 
he was strong. 

Eoddy thought he should like it very 
much, but wanted to know what he should 
do for reins ; and while Mrs. Eussell was con- 
sidering that matter, there came a knock at 
the kitchen-door. 

Jessie got up, half smiling, half embar- 
rassed. 

“That is Mrs. Yogt, our washer-woman,” 
she said, coming and standing by Mrs. Eus- 
sell. “ She has felt so sorry all along for that 
poor boy at the hospital, and she wanted so 
much to take him some broth to-day, that I 
did n’t like to hurt her feelings by refusing. 
But you would n’t care to go with her, Mrs. 


A JOYFUL SUEPRISE. 209 

Bussell, and I suppose she would feel awk- 
ward, too. I ’ll tell you, mamma ; you ought 
to go out this lovely day, it ’s getting so nice 
and cool, now. You go up with Mrs. Bussell, 
and I ’ll dress Boddy, and he and I and Mrs. 
Yogt will follow you by and by. Won’t 
that be pleasanter all round ? ” 

“ Yes ; do come, Mrs. Lang,” said her visitor ; 
and so it was settled, and Jessie ran off to 
open the door. Sure enough, it was the 
washer-woman with her little tin pail of soup. 
It was boiling hot and well covered up, so 
that it could not soon get cold ; and Jessie let 
her bathe Boddy’s face and smooth his curls 
while she herself put on her own things. 
Then she brought his little coat and hat, and 
soon they were out and on their way, follow- 
ing the two ladies who had started before. 

The sun was high still, but there was a 
fresh breeze blowing up from the river, and 
the sidewalks were pretty well shaded so far 
up town. They were not very warm when 
they reached the hospital gates, and it looked 
delightfully cool and pleasant within the 
grounds, where the grass was green as em- 
erald velvet, and the trees dropped such gently 
swaying shadows. 

18 * 


O 


210 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

There was a broad piazza at one side of the 
building, where the patients were permitted 
to take the air as they grew well enough ; 
and there Jessie saw her mother and Mrs. 
Kussell seated, talking with her friend, the 
doctor. There was some one lying on a 
bench near by, propped up with pillows; 
and, as they went up the steps, Jessie said to 
her companion : 

“There, that is Paul now. How much 
better he must be ! ” and then she stopped 
suddenly, startled at the strange, wild stai’e 
with which Mrs. Yogt was regarding the sick 
boy. Only for an instant she gazed as if half- 
stupefied, like one who knows not whether 
he is awake or dreaming, then darted for- 
ward with a piercing cry, and threw herself 
on her knees by his side : 

“ Mein son ! mein son ! ” she sobbed aloud 
in her own language, gathering his head upon 
her breast ; and Paul, clasping his arms about 
her neck, sobbed back in answer, — 

“ Mein mutter ! Mein mutter ! ” 


Jlotocr-^ission 



“Mein son! mein son!” she sobbed aloud 


p. 210. 



CHAPTER Xiy. 

HOME AGAIN! 

T hey stayed held thus in each other’s 
arms. No one had the heart to break in 
upon such a scene ; but the doctor rose, re- 
membering prudence in the midst of his sur- 
prise, and went and stood beside his patient. 

“What in the world does it all mean?” 
demanded Mrs.^ Russell, in utter amazement. 
“Do either of you know anything about 
this ? ” appealing to Mrs. Lang and Jessie. 
They, meanwhile, were saying to each other : 
“ How strange we never thought of it before I 
For now it all seems to be so plain ! ” 

“ But what is so plain ? Do pity my im- 
patience ! ” interposed Mrs. Russell, and Mrs. 
Lang hastened to explain all she knew. She 
told what a strange, sad, silent creature their 
German washer-woman had always been, with 
a look in her face as though she were “ crying 
inside,” as Jessie expressed it ; and yet, how 
unusually kind and patient she had always 

211 


212 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

been with little Roddy. How she once had a 
boy herself, of whom she always spoke as 
“lost,” and about whom she seemed to re- 
proach herself in some way ; which they had 
thought was only the mother’s yearning anx- 
iety about her dead child, lest she had not 
been tender enough to it when living. 

And now it seemed that “ lost ” did not mean 
dead ; and that this little newsboy in whom 
Jessie had been so much interested, and who 
had told her how he had run away from home 
on account of his mother’s severity with him, 
was the missing son whom she had mourned 
so sore I 

“ It is a strange, strange thing altogether,” 
said Mrs. Lang, as she finished her story. 
“ The way in which Jessie was first led to know 
him, through a little bunch of flowers ; and 
that his mother should be in our employ, and 
they be brought together again by the merest 
chance, it might seem to some. But to me 
it seems one of those ‘mysterious ways in 
which God moves, his wonders to perform ! ’ ” 

“Yes, indeed,” assented Mrs. Russell, still 
full of wonder and surprise. “And a most mer- 
ciful providence for him, too, for he would have 
found it a very difierent thing trying to earn 


HOME again! 


213 


his living now entirely by himself. I sup- 
pose his mother will be able to help him ? 
How odd Jessie never noticed that he was 
German ! ” 

“ Oh, yes ; she is a very industrious woman, 
and has a snug little home of her own, 
and all the work she cares to do. As to the 
boy, Jessie did speak of his using a German 
word now and then ; but you know the chil- 
dren who are born in this country, and play 
with other children who speak English, and 
go to the public schools, rarely have any ac- 
cent, though they may know how to speak 
their parents’ language. Eemember this boy 
has been a newsboy for two years, and spoke, 
I fancy, a sort of slang rather than anything 
else. But he seems to have the making of 
something better in him. Jessie thinks he is 
very much changed within the last week or 
two. How glad I am for his mother’s sake I 
I shall like to see that shadow of suffering 
go out of her face. I can’t understand how 
she ever could have been harsh to her boy ; 
she has ‘ always been very tender to my little 
son — has n’t she, Koddy, mother’s little pet? ” 

In the meantime, while all this talk was 
going on, Jessie had gone up to the bench 


214 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

where the sick boy lay, and stood waiting 
with a heart brimful of joy. When at 
length the new-met mother and son loosed 
their long and clinging embrace, and lifted 
their eyes, her sweet, beaming face was the 
first they met. 

“Oh, I am so glad, so glad, so glad!” was 
all she could say, and then the tears came to 
all three pairs of eyes. 

“ It ’s you Ve got a right to be. Miss,” said 
Paul, trying hard to speak as if he were not 
crying. “Nobody else would ha’ been so 
good to such an ugly chap as me. It ’s all 
your doin’, an’ blessins’ on ye 1 ” 

“ No ; it ’s all her doing,” said Jessie, quickly, 
looking at his mother. “ If she had n’t been 
so good to our little Eoddy, I never should 
have thought of speaking about you, and 
then she wouldn’t have come to-day. So 
it ’s all her doing, and I ’m so glad I ” 

“It is all God’s doing, and we are all so 
glad 1 ” said Mrs. Lang, fervently, coming up 
with Mrs. Kussell. “ Now, Mrs. Vogt, you 
can be happy once more ; you have got back 
your son.” 

“Yes; Gott be danked, for I do not deserve 
it ! ” sobbed the poor woman, oppressed with 


HOME again! 


215 


remorse. “ I vas not a goof mutter ; I vipped 
liim too mucli, und I kept kim too close, und 
I trove him awaj out into de hard vorld. 
Und now look at him — his poor little foot! 
Efen if he forgifs me, I nefer no more can 
forgif myself!” 

She covered her face with her hard, brown 
hands, and' rocked to and fro in a passion of 
grief. 

Paul reached up and wound his arms round 
her neck. 

“You sha’n’t talk so, mother; it is not 
true ! ” he cried, almost roughly, in his dis- 
tress. “ It was more my fault than yours, a 
great deal. You meant it all right, only 
women wa’n’t never boys, you know; an’ 
they ’re apt to pull the rope too tight or too 
loose. Besides, I know I was a reg’lar little 
mule. But that ’s all over, an’ let it go. W e’ ve 
got each other agen, an’ I guess we ’ll hold on. 
An’ as for the foot, let that go, too. It ’ll keep 
me from ever running off again, an’ you ’ll 
see yet how lively I’ll hobble about with 
a crutch ! ” 

“ You shall haf no crutch! ” she broke in, 
passionately. “You shall sit all day und do 
not a thing, like a king on his throne. I 


216 


THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


shall be hands und feet und efery thing ; you 
nefer shall lift efen your finger no more ! ” 

“ Oh, mother ! ” said Paul, turning very red, 
and half laughing in the midst of his tears. 
“You wouldn’t want me to be such a baby 
as that ? No : I feel as if I should soon be as 
strong as ever again, and you ’ll see I ’ll do 
famously with a crutch. I ain’t a going to 
lay by just yet.” 

“ But you are going to have something 
much better than a crutch ! ” here broke in 
Jessie, unable to contain herself another mo- 
ment. “ Oh, please, Mrs. Eussell, may n’t I 
tell him? Mayn’t I, doctor, please! It’s 
all settled, is n’t it ? and it ’ll be such a com- 
fort to them both 1 ” 

The doctor smiled kindly, and Mrs. Eussell 
said, in her dry way, — 

“ I would n’t answer for the consequences, 
if you had to keep that in much longer. Go 
tell them, little Miss Enthusiasm 1 ” 

“ Oh, thank you 1 ” cried Jessie, with radiant 
face. “ Then, Paul, I may tell you what will 
make you very glad, and comfort your mother 
more than anything else. You are not going 
to have a crutch, that tires one so and is always 
in the way. You are going to have a new leg ; 


HOME again! 


217 


one of that kind that is almost as good as a 
real live one. I don’t know what kind, but 
the doctor does, and he said you could wear 
one, only they cost so much ; and this dear, 
dear lady,” putting her arm through Mrs. Eus- 
sell’s, and pressing close up to her, “ has prom- 
ised that she will have one made for you. 
Now, isn’t she good, and are n’t you glad, and 
is n’t this one of the happiest days ? ” 

She clasped her hands together in the fer- 
vor of her delight. Mrs. Vogt looked up as 
though she scarcely understood, but Paul’s 
face lit with joyful surprise. 

“ Oh, that ’ll be ” — he started to say some- 
thing, but broke down utterly, and sobbed 
for a moment like a girl. Brave as he had 
tried to be about it, the thought. of hobbling 
about on a crutch all the rest of his life had 
not been any more agreeable to him than it 
would have been to you or to me. As soon 
as he could steady his voice, he rubbed his 
eyes, all shining with grateful tears, and said 
with a sort of humble wonder : 

“ It beats me to think what makes you all 
so good to me, anyway ! ” 

“ I think it ’s because God is so good to us 
19 


218 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

all!” said Jessie, simply ; and there seemed 
to be nothing more needed after that. 

By this time, Paul began to look rather 
pale and fatigued, and the doctor said he had 
excitement enough, and that he must go in 
now to his bed, and be very quiet. But at 
this his mother clutched tighter the sallow, 
bony hand which she had kept close covered 
with hers, giving it now and then little soft 
fondling strokes, and broke out into a piteous 
entreaty, fixing her dark, penetrating eyes 
imploringly upon the doctor. 

“Oh, don’t, don’t, for de goot Gott’s sake, 
take him back in dat place 1 ” she besought, 
turning with a shudder away from the open 
hall, across which one could see through the 
wide-set doors the long rows of cots with 
their ghastly-looking occupants. “ He is 
mein own son, und he has been gone so 
long away, und I left mein little home und 
came to dis big strange city to look for him, 
look for him day und night, und I could not 
find him, und mein heart, it vas breaking! 
und now de goot Gott has sent me to him — 
don’t take him away ! Let him come mit me ; 
let me haf mein son ! I vill get a carriage ; I 
haf money ; I vill spend, mein last tollar ; I 


HOME again! 


219 


haf a goot house, und his mutter can nurse 
him better as any one else. ‘ Don’t send mein 
child back to dat horrible place! ” 

The doctor and the two ladies looked 
doubtfully at each other, and Jessie stood 
glancing from one to another, with a face full 
of anxious sympathy. Paul laid his other 
hand — he could move, the arm quite easily 
now — upon his mother’s, and said in a sooth- 
ing tone : 

“Don’t bother the doctor, mother, dear; 
he knows what is best ; and we won’t mind 
anything, now we know we ’ve got each other 
again. And you need n’t fret about it ’s bein’ 
kind o’ painful in there. It ’s been the blessed- 
est place in the whole world to me, mother 1 
It ’s there I ’ve been truly born over again. 
I feel in my heart I ’m a different boy from 
the hard sort o’ chap that went in there ; an’ 
you an’ me both may bless the day when I 
was took where I could meet this dear little 
lady.’ All the good that’s come to me an’ 
to you has come through her an’ her little 
bunch o’ flowers 1 ” 

He fixed his eyes on Jessie with a look of 
such deep gratefulness that the child’s heart 
overflowed in tears. How could she be thank- 


220 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


fill enough to God thaf He had permitted her 
to lead a soul to Him ! She had no words to 
utter the joj that was in her ; and presently, 
the doctor, who had been consulting with Mrs. 
Eussell and Mrs. Lang, spoke in. answer to 
the beseeching look which the mother still 
kept fixed upon his face. 

“I don’t know,” he said. “I should like 
to do as you wish, of course ; and I don’t 
know but that it might be the best thing in 
the end. The boy is doing wonderfully well ; 
he is getting stronger every day; he needs 
nourishing food and careful nursing more 
than anything else, and happiness is a very 
good medicine for convalescents. The mov- 
ing might jar him a little ; but you say it is 
only a short distance ? ” 

“Only a few blocks, doctor, and I could 
send for my carriage for him,” interposed 
Mrs. Eussell, with ready kindness. “ It is low 
and large, and I could have a small mattress 
laid across the seats. I really believe it 
would be a good plan. I think his recovery 
would be much inore speedy among more 
cheerful surroundings, with his home and his 
mother.” 

“Ach! the goot Gott bless you, madame. 


HOME again! 


221 


for dat vord ! ” said tlie poor woman, passion- 
ately. And the doctor, after another moment 
of thought, turned abruptly towards the door. 
“I’ll risk it,” he said. “It is an unusual 
thing to do, but then the whole case is an 
unusual one. I’ll just step in and speak to 
the Superintendent; if he makes no objec- 
tions, I ’ll risk letting him go.” 

He vanished within the Superintendent’s 
office, and it was a very anxious ten minutes 
which passed before he came out again. 

It was over at last ; the doctor appeared, 
still looking anxious, but yet with consent 
written on his face. Mrs. Yogt started up 
with an eager cry, but he held up his hand 
in a gesture of warning. 

“ He has left the responsibility all on my 
shoulders,” he said, very gravely. “And 
you must be very careful, my * good woman, 
not to make me regret it. You must con- 
trol your feelings entirely ; the boy has had 
too much excitement already. He must be 
put to bed as soon as possible, and kept per- 
fectly quiet, and you must obey my orders 
just as strictly as the nurses do here. I 
shall continue to visit him, of course ; and I 
think, if you do your part well, it will be a 
19 * 


222 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 


good thing for him to go. .Now the thing is 
do you feel sure of yourself? ” 

Mrs. Vogt got up from her chair, and stood 
in an humble but self-respectful attitude be- 
fore the doctor. 

“ You shall see, my goot gentleman, you 
shall see!” she said; and she spoke so 
quietly, yet so firmly, and looked so strong, 
and self-controlled, and every way trust- 
worthy, that the doctor was satisfied, and said 
at once, “ V ery well, then ; the sooner he is 
off the better.” 

“ I will go myself, and send the carriage di- 
rectly,” said Mrs. Bussell, starting up quickly. 

“ And I will go with you and take my lit- 
tle boy home. It is time he had his supper,” 
said Mrs. Lang. 

“I’ll go, too, and look in at your house, 
Mrs. Y ogt, if you ’ll give me the key, and 
see that there is some fire to warm the mari- 
gold soup 1 ” interposed Jessie, laughing out in 
the joy of her heart. 

There were still several long and painful 
weeks before Jessie’s “boy” was able even to 
have the new limb fitted to the poor sore 
stump. But he was so happy in the new at- 


HOME again! 


223 


mosphere of home-love and heaven-love, that 
he bore the waiting very patiently; and 
the -June sunshine itself was not sweeter nor 
brighter than the joy-light that beamed 
through the plain little cottage from morn- 
'ing till night. Mrs. Russell declared it was 
better than medicine only to look at Mrs. 
Vogt’s face; Mrs. Lang rejoiced truly in the 
late-come happiness of her faithful work- 
woman; and as for Roddy, he approved of 
the whole thing decidedly. He speedily dis- 
covered that Paul knew how to tell funny 
stories, and draw the most amazing horses, 
and make the most wonderful soldier-caps. 
He was never quite ready to come home when 
Jessie stopped for him on her way from school ; 
and she generally managed to spare a few mo- 
ments, for her coming was still the best pleas- 
ure to which Paul had to look forward. 

He never forgot what he owed to her sim- 
ple and childlike goodness. He never, even 
when he had grown so accustomed to his new 
support as almost to have forgotten his own 
lost limb, ceased to cling to the rod and the 
staff which she had pointed out to him when 
he was as maimed in soul as in body. Nor 
could he ever, to the end of his days, though 


224 THE FLOWER-MISSION. 

lie was for years in eliarge of Mrs. Eussell’s 
grounds, with all their wealth of costly plants, 
catch a glimpse of a yellow dandelion, glint- 
ing like a star in the young spring grass, 
without a thrill at his heart, and a fervent 
prayer, “ God bless her that sent that posy to 
me ! ” 

As for Jessie, all this happiness, which had 
grown out of her childish fondness for flow- 
ers, only added to the depth of her feeling for 
them year by year, and made her more sure 
of the blessed influence these sweetest of 
God’s creations may exert in homes and hearts 
which are barren of beauty. She has never 
given up her connection with the Flower- 
Mission, nor ceased to carry these fragrant 
tokens of God’s love and goodness to the 
bedsides of the poor and suffering. A bless- 
ing waits upon her gentle ministry, and her 
highest happiness is in the frequent fulfilment 
of the gracious promise : 

“ As the earth bringeth forth her bud, and 
as the garden causeth the things that are 
sown in it to spring forth ; so the Lord God 
will cause righteousness and praise to spring 
forth.” 


THE END. 



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